


Animus

by MorbidBirdy



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Blood and Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, M/M, Multi, Post-Canon, Psychological Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-01 07:17:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 34,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13993212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorbidBirdy/pseuds/MorbidBirdy
Summary: A ghost of Heero's past takes possession of his life, relationships and his identity.





	1. Haunt

“BRAKE! For the love of tender Baby Jesus!”

Duo nearly threw up as their black mercedes skidded to a stop, leaving only half an inch between itself and a neon green Colony Cab that was parked in the middle of the intersection.

“What do you have against adult Jesus?” Trowa deadpanned from the front passenger seat, not looking up as he studied the map of L4’s intricate and confusing maze of back roads. A red blip was blinking on screen, moving quickly away from their position. “Heero, take a left.”

Suddenly the dark car lurched backwards, stopped hard and took off to the left, swerving around the taxi cab and nearly hitting a group of Galactic Scouts who were using the crosswalk, dragging a red wagon full of cookies behind them.

“We’re gonna die.  _ I’m  _ gonna die.” Duo moaned as he grappled with the supple, black leather of the back seat, attempting to strap himself in. “Why did we let Heero drive?”

The car hopped a curb, slid around a corner and bolted forward after its target. Heero was staring straight ahead, his expression determined, gloved hands clutching the steering wheel. “If you would stop getting your license suspended I wouldn’t have to,” he snarled, ripping the steering wheel to the right.

“No, left-” Trowa interjected plainly.

The car fishtailed and swerved left.

“This is the end. Man… I… I see the light-” Duo groaned as he yanked at his seatbelt, throwing his head back dramatically as he was being tossed from right to left.

“Shut up. I’m losing my focus,” Heero hissed as he gunned the mercedes, sending it careening down an opening straightaway.

“Yeah. You’re making him lose his focus,” Trowa echoed, smirking as he glanced over his shoulder at Duo.

“I hate you. I hate you  _ both _ ,” Duo grumbled. His eyes widened as a garbage truck pulled across the road in front of them. Heero wasn’t slowing down. “Heero, GOD DAMN IT I’M TOO YOUNG TO-”

Heero pulled the black sedan to the right, attempting to miss the truck but in the process lost control of the car as it hydroplaned across a wide puddle, jumped the curb, hit a low cement barrier and took to the air, rolled over and landed with a smash of glass and debris on its roof. It slid twenty feet and then stopped, smoking, its front tires deflated but still rolling.

“... die.” Duo finished his statement weakly, hanging upside down, dangling on the end of his seatbelt.

The men in the garbage truck ran up to the car and a thick crowd of locals started to surround the wreckage. Heero blinked and fumbled weakly for the button to release his seatbelt, pushed it and landed heavily in the glass that had accumulated within the roof of the car. He turned to his right, narrowing his eyes as he attempted to make them come into focus, reaching out to touch the limp figure beside him. A sick feeling stirred his stomach as he grabbed his partner by the sleeve of his jacket and shook him.

“Trowa,” he said in a hoarse voice, shaking his partner again. “Shit…” There was no response.

“Great. You killed Barton,” Duo seethed as he wiggled out of his seatbelt and belly crawled across the debris inside the car, shimmying out of the bent frame of the rear passenger window.

“I’m… not dead,” Trowa said weakly as he regained consciousness, his head lolling around as he tried to orient himself to his new inverted surroundings. “What happened…”

“Fucking Heero crash landed the car,” Duo grumbled and struggled to open the crumpled passenger door. Heero had come around to help him. The sound of sirens blared in the distance, growing closer.

“Hey, you guys okay?” One of the garbage men asked.

“Just fuckin’ great,” Duo snarled as he helped Trowa sit outside of the car. Heero frowned, noticing the former Heavyarms pilot was favoring his left arm. He bent down to grab the iPad Trowa had been using to track their target. The red blip was gone, their prey out of range.

They had lost their subjects. It was his fault.

An ambulance pulled up and a pair of EMTs ran over to treat them. Duo seemed fine, with only a few minor cuts and bruises. Trowa appeared to have sprained or fractured his elbow, had a few cuts to his face but otherwise was okay.

As one of the EMTs urged Heero to sit on a nearby curb he watched as Duo cracked jokes with Trowa, who was sitting beside him, in pain but still able to roll his eyes at the ridiculousness of their situation. Heero was glad that they were okay.

“Sir? Excuse me, Sir?”

Heero blinked and rubbed the side of his head. An EMT was crouched down in front of him. Apparently she had been speaking to him for a while and he hadn’t heard her. A vague, distant ringing filled his ears and dark, splotchy gray clouds were drifting in and out of his peripheral vision.

He had a concussion. He knew that much.

As the EMT felt him up for vitals and shined a light into his eyes he let his gaze settle over her shoulder. A crowd of rubberneckers had amassed nearby. A mother shielded her daughter’s eyes and tried to rush her past. It was then that Heero realized he had something dripping from his nose. He wiped it with the back of his hand and sniffed, his throat filling with the sharp, metallic taste of his own blood. A pair of teenagers were filming them with their phones. He didn’t bother trying to cover his face. Preventer had once been a secret organization, but soon after its establishment Une and her board of know-it-all wizard advisors had decided to put them in uniforms and plaster the Preventer logo over everything they distributed. 

Heero figured it was because Une had formerly worked for OZ. Of course she liked flashy uniforms. Heero could have done without it, but the advisory board insisted that Preventer’s presence should be known to give the public peace of mind. 

Maybe flipping a car during a high speed chase wasn’t the  _ best _ form of publicity, but Une was going to have to take it or leave it.

Heero watched as an older gentleman took their picture, a kid pointed and laughed and a group of schoolgirls whispered and pointed at them from across the street. As he skimmed the faces of the people standing nearby his vision faded in and out, bright spots bursting to life in the backs of his eyes. 

He missed him at first, the face in the crowd that was incredibly familiar.

He suddenly realized it was his face, staring back at him. Bright, intense blue eyes peered at him from the crowd, half-hidden by thick, shoulder length chocolate brown hair. It was as if he was staring into a mirror, his expression as shocked as his doppleganger’s.

The EMT hovered into his line of vision. Irritated, he stood up quickly and immediately regretted it. Grabbing his head, he squinted and peered across the street, searching for his twin. He was nowhere to be seen.

Every cell in Heero’s body turned to ice, his mind racing a mile a minute. No, it couldn’t have been  _ him _ . He had died, right? Dr. Jay had told him that he’d been disposed of.

“Mister Yuy? Sir, you need to sit down, we need to take you into the hospital for observation.” The EMT had a hand on his shoulder and was gently urging him to sit.

“No. I’m fine,” Heero replied automatically, leaning to the side to look past her after he resumed his squat on the curb.

It couldn’t have been who he thought it was. Suddenly memories from his past began to flood his consciousness, making him dizzy with overload. His arms began to tremble as his arendaline started to fade from his system.

No. It couldn’t be. Rubbing the back of his sore neck, Heero finally let the EMT guide him to the ambulance where Trowa was sitting on the bumper, his arm tucked up against his chest in a sling. Heero sat down next to him and crossed his arms over his chest, bit his lower lip and tried to keep his body from shaking. Duo was on the phone nearby. It was clear that he was talking to Wufei.

“Hey, guy, don’t get your fundoshi in a bunch. We’re all fine. Eh? What do you mean you don’t care if we’re fine?! C’mon man, it’s just a car. Oi. Hey, slow down with the Mandarin, I can’t understand what you’re sayin’...”

A hand grabbed his arm. He looked to his left and saw that Trowa had inched closer, his fingers wrapped around his bicep. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Fine. You?” Heero asked tersely.

Trowa nodded and gestured to his arm. “They think I dislocated my elbow.”

Heero frowned. “I’m sorry…”

Trowa chuckled and squeezed his arm before dropping his hand into his lap. Heero felt the weight of Trowa’s shoulder as he leaned against him. “It’s fine. It will heal. It’s not the first time I’ve seen you flip a car, and it won’t be the last.”

Heero smirked. That was definitely true.


	2. Give-and-Take

Trowa had never considered himself dependent on anyone else. His entire life he had been alone, drifting, trying to carve a place for himself in the world. Moving into adulthood, he had only a few people he considered friends and only three people in the universe that he trusted unconditionally. 

Catherine, his sister, was his rock. His cheerleader, his motivator. At a time in his life when he was completely lost she had given him his true identity, and no matter where his feet took him he could always return to her. Where Cathy was would always be home.

Quatre, his compassionate best friend who taught him how to let go and trust others. It was Quatre who taught him that he could be sensitive and embrace those softer sides of himself, and that to be compassionate was a show of true inner strength.

And then there was Heero. Ever since Operation Meteor Trowa had harbored feelings for his fellow Gundam pilot, but only after the end of the Eve War did either of them give in to those personal urges. Even though they hadn’t started dating until four years ago, Trowa felt like they had shared many important, life-altering experiences together. Heero had seen him at his best and at his worst, had trusted him with his Gundam when Trowa needed to act, to find himself, to save his sister. Trowa never once hesitated to help Heero when he needed it, not simply for the mission, but in the name of camaraderie.

Trowa had entrusted Heero with his life, his body and his heart. He had brought out parts of Trowa that he never knew existed. Unlike his past relationships where he’d take a dominant role when it came to sex, Heero had coaxed him into becoming quite the opposite. Pliable, obedient, dominant.

While their relationship had initially been balanced, but over time Heero began to assert his dominance more and more. Heero was tipping the scales, wanting to top more often and Trowa soon grew to like it. He craved it. Ached for it.

He wanted it all the time and Heero knew it.

They arrived at Heero’s apartment after their tri-weekly workout session and Trowa hadn’t even gotten one sneaker off before Heero was on him, hands greedily grabbing at his ass, planting needy kisses against his neck.

“What, you’re not going to let me shower first?” Trowa asked with a chuckle, half-heartedly pushing at Heero with a hand, playing hard to get.

“You fucked me when I had a bloody nose once,” Heero pointed out factually before busying himself by blazing a trail of open mouthed kisses down Trowa’s neck and shoulder.

Trowa toed off his second shoe and laughed. “You looked really cute with that black eye, too…” Who could forget  _ that _ mission. Heero had got the snot beaten out of him by a suspect in a parking garage, and had needed a little stress relief. Trowa was always willing to oblige.

“You look cute all the time,” Heero murmured against his throat. He had put his hands on Trowa’s waist and was shuffling him backwards down the hallway in the direction of the bedroom.

Trowa chuckled and pretended to stumble on his feet, making Heero’s job of moving him to the room more difficult. “That’s sweet, but honestly is that the best you can do?”

“This is your fault,” Heero grumbled, urging him through the bedroom doorway. “You knew what you were doing.”

Trowa paused in the middle of Heero’s room to carefully pull his sweaty t-shirt over his head, drawing his sling-clad arm through one of the holes and threw it on a nearby chair. “Doing? I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” Of course he  _ did _ know. One of his favorite hobbies was quietly teasing Heero to get a rise out of him. That afternoon his game manifested itself in the form of perfectly timed toe touches and lumbar stretches in front of Heero’s treadmill. Heero had run twice as hard, like a horny little rabbit chasing a carrot on a string.

Now it seemed that the rabbit had caught his carrot and was intent on enjoying it.

Heero’s shirt was yanked off and discarded in one fluid motion, his hands pulling eagerly at the waist of Trowa’s black Preventer issue sweatpants.

“No way,” Trowa said sharply as he batted Heero’s hands away from his waistband. “I’m taking a shower. Ball sweat is not a turn-on, Heero.” He danced away from his lover’s needy paws and ducked out of the room and into the bathroom before Heero could stop him.

Heero’s apartment was neat and his bathroom recently cleaned. There was never a time that Trowa showed up and the place was untidy. He always wondered if that was Heero’s preference, or was he just bored. He suspected that cleaning was a distraction tactic Heero used to keep from sinking into his own dark memories and thoughts. The level of cleaning and organizing that Heero did on a daily basis was borderline neurotic, at least that was what Duo said. Trowa had mentioned this concern to Quatre, who had told him that one of his sisters had a similar issue and had sought professional help on the matter. The psychiatrist had stated that as long as the behavior didn’t interfere with the productivity or relationships of the patient that it was okay.

Trowa wondered if Heero would ever consider going to a therapist or a psychiatrist, and if he did, whether the mental health professional in question would be able to sit through some of his boyfriend’s uncomfortable, horrifying childhood memories.

Trowa peeled off the rest of his clothes and gently tugged his sling from his bandaged elbow and hopped into the shower and used Heero’s soap and shampoo to wash away the dirt and sweat from their earlier workout. As he got out and toweled himself dry he paused to bury his face against the soft, fluffy cotton cloth, breathing in the fresh scent of ginseng and sage then rubbed the towel across his injured arm and studied himself in mirror.

Who would have thought that years later he would be standing naked in Heero’s apartment? As kids the thought of a 9-5 job and a home seemed so farfetched and distant yet now their lives were relatively normal. They went on dates, grocery shopped together and we're planning to attend a friend's wedding. Duo was getting  _ married _ . Had Trowa told the former Deathscythe pilot that during the wars Duo wouldn’t have believed it.

Life had been good to them all. Quatre was doing well with his business ventures. Relena had a new purpose and was continuing the fight for peace. Duo was settling down with Hilde, and both of them couldn't be happier about it. Wufei was driven, focus on his work, but seemed content about it, and Trowa was standing in his boyfriend's bathroom, getting ready to make love to him and then sleep in his bed. His own bed, not a prison cot or a sleeping bag tucked away in a mobile suit hanger somewhere. Those were the days...

So many people they met outside of work thought that working with Preventer was exciting, and envied them for the thrill of agent life but Trowa's favorite part of the day had nothing to do with high speed chases or weapons investigations. He loved simple things like quiet dinners at home, his toothbrush sharing the same cup as his boyfriend's, spooning in the dark with no worry of violence, the next battle or war. Sure he missed the thrill of a fight and piloting Heavyarms, but he wouldn't trade what he had now for anything in the world.

When Trowa finally slid his sling back over his shoulder and emerged from the bathroom he saw that Heero wasn't in his room. Adjusting the towel around his waist, he padded quietly across the apartment in search of him. Heero's low, serious voice led him to the balcony where his lover was standing with his back to the railing, shirtless, hair rustling in the crisp evening wind, talking on his cell phone. The white one.

“Yeah. I can have those background checks run by next week. No. It's no problem…”

Trowa frowned. Heero finally noticed him standing in the open doorway and gave him an apologetic look. Trowa was irritated, and made no attempt to keep it from his face. Turning his back to Heero, he made his way into the kitchen to get a glass of water, trying not to eavesdrop on his very  _ important  _ phone call.

Without a doubt it was Relena, the white iPhone Heero’s dedicated line only for correspondence with her.

Trowa hated that phone. It allowed Relena to keep direct contact with Heero at all times, which often impeded upon his personal time. Trowa couldn't be angry at  _ her _ , she did only what Heero allowed. If he had turned his phone off when he got home like he was supposed to do Relena’s tugging of his leash would have gone unnoticed.

So maybe Trowa was a little jealous. He knew that he shouldn't be. Heero had been moonlighting as Relena’s head of security ever since the end of the Eve Wars, a personal mission that his lover took very seriously. Relena's safety was Heero’s hobby, which was endearing to a point, but after a while having his boyfriend's divided attention became annoying. Relena picked the most inopportune times to ask for help, and Heero could never say no to her.

He made a mental note to throw that phone in the garbage disposal at the first given opportunity.

Finally Heero finished with his call and came inside. He appeared to turn the phone off before shoving it into a drawer in his desk beneath the rear windows.

“Sorry about that,” Heero muttered as he joined Trowa in the kitchen. Trowa shrugged and tried to look as nonchalant as possible.

“It's fine.”

It wasn’t fine, but what could he say? Heero was dedicated to Relena, a habit there was no hope of breaking. Trowa was convinced that his boyfriend’s choice to follow Relena and to work for her was his way of dealing with his past, of ‘righting’ the things he had done wrong during the war and to ensure the sanctity of Relena’s brand of Total Pacifism. 

It was difficult to stay mad at Heero about it. He was only doing what he thought was right, and to be fair, Trowa hadn’t expressed his disapproval of Heero’s obsession when it came to Relena. He didn’t want things to be weird between or the topic to be brought up too often. The more Heero thought about Relena the less he thought about  _ him _ .

There was no point stirring that pot. Relena was simply something - someone - that Heero would just refuse to give up on, anyway.

The mood in the apartment was awkward, strained, the ember of lusty passion that they had both been feeling only minutes before was slowly fading away, a mere wisp of affection. Trowa supposed that it was his own fault, he shouldn’t have abandoned Heero’s offer when he had, but he couldn’t help but test his lover’s patience, his devotion, but playing hard to get was part of the game.

“Come to bed?” Heero asked as he hovered in the entryway to the kitchen. Trowa rolled his eyes. His mind was screaming ‘of course’ but his stubbornness insisted that he stall. He wanted Heero to know how annoying the phone calls with Relena were, but he couldn’t bring himself to outright say it. He didn’t want to argue.

“I’m thinking about heading back to my place,” Trowa said as he set his empty glass in the sink. “I have a lot to do at home.”

Heero raised an eyebrow at him and crossed his arms over his bare chest, frowning. He wasn’t buying it.

“Like what?” He was challenging his story. “Maybe I can help?”

“Things.” God, why was he being so petty? He couldn’t help himself.   
  
Heero smirked, eyeing him as if he had heard his thoughts. “They must be important  _ things. _ ”

“They are. Very important.” Trowa adjusted the towel around his waist and sighed. “I may as well work on them, since it seems you’re about to be busy running background checks tonight.”   
  
“You’re jealous.” He was.

“I’m not,” Trowa snapped back quickly. He paused, put himself in check and then sighed heavily. “Alright, maybe a little bit. What happened to you turning off that phone?”

Heero shook his head and finally detached himself from the doorway to enter the kitchen. He grabbed Trowa by the towel around his waist and tugged him closer. “I know you think I’m perfect, but even I forget to do things sometimes.”

Trowa rolled his eyes and slapped Heero’s hand from its grip on the towel. “You didn’t have to answer it.”

“I know.”

“So why do it?” Trowa questioned him, his disappointment becoming visible upon his face. Heero shrugged.

“Old habits die hard? I like to feel important?” He was frowning now. “I don’t know why. I’m sorry.”

The apology was all Trowa wanted to hear. Arguments with Heero were few and far between, but once they happened it was impossible for Trowa to let something go without resolution. Even something as simple as an apology was enough to quell his hard feelings.

“You’re lucky I have a hard time staying mad at that face,” Trowa muttered, the tension easing out of his body.

“This face…?” Heero made his usual default, serious expression. “Or…  _ this _ face?” He then made the exact same face.

Trowa laughed and playfully shoved his shoulder. “No, the other face.”

Heero quirked an eyebrow at him. “Which face is that?”   
  
Grabbing Heero by his arm, Trowa pulled his shorter companion closer and leaned down to nuzzle their noses together. “The face you make when I…” He ran his tongue across Heero’s lower lip suggestively.

“Oh.  _ That _ face,” Heero replied, eyes glistening with amusement. “I haven’t made that face in a while.”

By a while he meant three days, which seemed like forever. Still nose to nose, they were drifting together out of the kitchen and towards the bedroom.

“I can help you with that,” Trowa purred. “Let’s go.”

-

Heero approached sex the same way he piloted a mobile suit. He was efficient and direct, and always the one to make the first move nnd, much like his piloting style, his stature and demeanor could easily be underestimated.

Trowa knew better. He had always known better.

Even though Heero was quiet and introverted, Trowa always suspected that he had a hidden raw, concentrated power within him. It was one of the things that he found most attractive about the former Wing pilot - how unassuming he could be.

Heero had no problem exerting that power over Trowa, and Trowa loved it.

As soon as they made it to the bed Heero’s clothes were gone, the towel Trowa had been wearing was lost someplace in the hallway. 

The playful nuzzling and teasing touches of their lips were quickly replaced by feverish, explorative kisses. They’d kissed a million times in the past, but every time Trowa’s lips came in contact with Heero’s he learned something new about him. Each kiss was different. Their morning kiss before work had been soft, pliable, and casual. Heero’s lips had smelled like fresh coffee and mint, mingling with the warm, cedary scent of his lover’s aftershave. The kiss he was experiencing now was salty from sweat, firm, insistent and urgent. This kiss was calling Trowa out, demanding more of him, refusing to let his lips go.

Somehow in the middle of their exchange Heero had pushed him down onto the bed on his back, pinning him there, devouring every sigh and exhale, tongues teasing lips apart, urging the other to come out and play. 

Trowa’s back arched as Heero deftly toyed with one of his nipples, the firm caresses activating every nerve ending in his body, forcing the hairs on his arms and legs to stand on end, his cock reacting in turn, hot blood pulsing southward, warming the sensitive flesh between his legs. Heero’s other hand was following the path of his hot blood, finding its epicenter below his belly button, his cool hand clasping around Trowa’s arousal, fingertips tracing easy lines across the thick, hardened shaft.

Emerald green eyes involuntarily rolled backward, his hands snapping up in search of something to brace himself against as his body practically jumped up into Heero’s hands. It had been three days, but his need was so great that it may as well have been three years.

Heero’s attentions were whipping Trowa up, forcing him into a state of satisfied frustration. He was satisfied to be receiving Heero’s attentions, but frustrated that his lover’s mouth hadn’t gone to work yet.

Ah, there it was. Heero was ever the consummate mind reader. As soon as the thought had materialized in his mind his lover complied, shimmying down to join his serious mouth with Trowa’s needy arousal, teasing him with his tongue and lips while a hand slid down to grasp his tight ass, a lubricated fingertip teasing his entrance, silently asking permission to enter him.

Trowa had never considered himself a bottom until he had starting messing around with Heero. Initially it was Heero who had submitted to Trowa, having very little experience with gay sex when they started dating. Trowa had fucked Heero quite a few times in the beginning, giving his lover a crash course, letting him learn how to pleasure someone else by being on the receiving end. It was then that Trowa had seen Heero’s pleasure face, an expression so different from his usual cool, unaffected demeanor. He liked it. There was something satisfying about seeing Heero out of control, looking weak and almost demure as he took Trowa’s cock into his body, submitting to his ministrations. 

It wasn’t until 6 months into their official relationship that Heero had made the move to top Trowa, and to his surprise had completely shaken his defined sexual preferences. While they still switched it up from time to time, Heero clearly found an identity as a dominant stud and Trowa gladly was going along with it.

In response to Heero’s probing finger Trowa parted his thighs and lifted a foot, hooked his toes behind his lover’s neck and pulled him forward, urging his mouth to take his hardened cock deeper into his throat while his hips raised, ass parting for Heero’s incoming finger. He bit back a groan as Heero entered him, thoughtfully twisting his finger as he carefully prepared him for his much longer, wider arousal.

Trowa’s body reflexively clenched around Heero’s intrusive finger, the muscles in his body winding tight as Heero’s mouth urged him ever closer to orgasm. Heero always insisted on finishing Trowa off first before ever considering pleasuring himself, always a thoughtful and considerate partner.

It was as if Heero was tugging Trowa’s orgasm by a string, closer and closer until finally Trowa couldn’t hold back anymore. His left arm shifted against his chest, pinned there by his sling, and his right shot downward, his hand digging into his lover’s soft, messy hair, stilling Heero’s mouth. The joined stimulation of Heero’s practiced tongue along with the intrusive finger caressing him in his deepest, most tender places had become too much for Trowa to handle.

At a loss for words, Trowa pushed his lover’s forehead with his palm in an attempt to warn Heero that he was close, not wanting to choke him with his cum.

Heero had never pulled away in the past, despite Trowa’s warnings, and this time was no different. As Trowa found his release Heero waited patiently, took all that was offered to him and swallowed. His body tensed hard, then fully relaxed, slumping against the bed. He raised his good arm up to drape over his eyes, panting, the flush of embarrassment heating his already warm cheeks. He had come hundreds of times in front of Heero by now, but in the moment he still felt self-conscious about how he must look when he reached his climax.

After Heero had thoroughly worked Trowa’s body into a fever he slipped his finger away, released Trowa’s throbbing, spent dick from his wet mouth and climbed up the length of his body. He pressed Trowa down into the mattress, pinning him there, careful not to agitate his injured elbow. Heero’s body atop his own made Trowa feel wanted, needed, safe. This submissive position beneath his partner was by far Trowa’s favorite as he was able to watch Heero as he fucked him, to see the shifts of emotion in his lover’s face, and admire the rise of color in his cheeks as things became heated and Heero lost control.

He felt Heero’s lubed cock slide against his ass, burying into the tight cleft of his cheeks, slipping easily across his warmed flesh. He was teasing him, demonstrating what was yet to come. 

Heero’s knee parted Trowa’s trembling thighs and he felt his lover’s cock, hot to the touch, slide against the inside of his thigh, the tip nudging his prepared, lubed ass. Trowa obediently parted his lean legs and wrapped them around Heero’s body and tried to relax. He could barely catch his breath, the anticipation and frustration from the teasing leaving him pathetically breathless. Part of him wanted to throw in the towel, take Heero’s control away from him and just hurry up to mount his lap and ride his lover’s dick until he was satisfied. Heero was was meticulous as ever, each action thoroughly planned and thoughtfully executed. It paid to wait up for him, because Heero never left Trowa wanting.

Except for right now. Heero’s hot flesh was nudging at his ass, threatening his entrance. Trowa clenched his legs around him, a silent plea, begging him to hurry up but his lover’s hands grabbed his hips, refusing to let him move.

“Squeeze…” Heero whispered against his ear, tightening his fingers around Trowa’s narrow hips for emphasis. Trowa groaned in frustration, his hips rocking upward, hard cock searching the air for friction. He was so turned on now, aching for his lover to fill his body and claim him. His hands grabbed fistfuls of the soft, cotton sheets and his shoulders tensed. He knew what Heero was asking him to do.

Shortly after Heero established himself as top he had come up with a way of taking Trowa, of entering his body. Obediently he arched his back and tightened his asshole, his sphincter clenching upon nothing, puckering hard and held it. Heero was kissing his shoulder, dragging his tongue across his collar bone to this throat, feasting upon his clean skin while he waited. Trowa felt Heero’s hot cock slide across the inside of his thigh before it positioned itself flush against his tightened entrance, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Twenty seconds passed. Trowa’s muscles were getting tired. Heero’s lips against his neck forced a pleasant tingle to erupt in his stomach, the butterfly sensation filling the cage of his chest.

Thirty seconds. Trowa’s muscles were exhausted. He took a deep breath, clutched the sheets and released his clenched entrance. Heero had been counting the seconds too, and as soon as Trowa relaxed he slowly pressed his cock into him, the effect making Trowa’s body practically suck him inside. Prepared and internally exhausted, Trowa was at his most relaxed, which made taking Heero into his body incredibly easy and pleasurable. It felt amazing, with practically no pain at all.

“God…” Trowa groaned, biting his lower lip, clenching his eyes closed. Every time they did it that way it felt incredible. “Heero… mnnn.”

Using his knowledge of physiology and physics, Heero had figured this process out all on his own, as a way of making Trowa’s transition easier.

Heero waited for Trowa’s signals, reveling in his internal heat, feeling his lover’s tired muscles tighten around him, hips rocking back against his to invite him to move. He complied, softly, gliding in and out of Trowa’s tightness, hands tracing his lover’s chest, sides and worshipping his flat stomach.

Trowa liked it rough, but tonight Heero’s affection was more tender and apologetic. It was clear that he felt badly for taking that phone call and was trying to make it up to him.

Trowa would feel Heero’s breath against his throat, his lover’s body curled against him, arms hooked under his legs, his shorter frame elongated to envelope his own, his sharp, narrow hips coming forward to meet Trowa’s. The point where they were most intimately connected slippery, becoming slick and sticky as Heero plunged into Trowa’s body, his cock leaking inside him, preparing to fill him the rest of the way.

Trowa tugged at Heero’s hair with his good hand impatiently, wanting to feel the sensation of Heero’s release as it coated him on the inside, quietly making his claim.

Heero’s pace was quickening. He was getting close.

“Trowa,” Heero whispered, his voice hoarse and barely audible between his heated pants and pleasured gasps. “I’m gonna-”   
  
Trowa tensed, tightening himself around Heero, forcing his lover’s climax to come quicker than he could speak the words. Heero plunged into him roughly, holding himself deep inside. Trowa felt his cock throbbing, twitching as it unloaded within him, the heat that had been craving finally releasing inside.


	3. Wedding Bells

A cool breeze hit his face as he stared into the bright, barren wasteland that was Heero Yuy’s fridge. There was a carton of half-empty expired soy milk shoved into the corner of the top shelf, a container of overripe blueberries, and a small box of baking soda occupying the bottom shelf, it’s corner cut open to keep the fridges contents smelling fresh. That is, if the fridge _had_ any contents. Trowa imagined a tumbleweed blowing by, comically making its way from one end of the empty shelves to the other.

It was clear that his boyfriend didn’t cook for himself when he wasn’t over to do it for him.

With a sigh Trowa snatched the pack of artisan beer from the bottom drawer and closed the door, making a mental note to bring some groceries over the next time he visited. He made his way to the living room, placing the pack on the coffee table while nimbly dodging Duo’s lanky arms as they shot out for one of the beers, before squeezing onto the couch in between Heero and Quatre.

“So anyway, she wants to go to the summer olympics this year. Crazy, right? Who wants to pay out the ass to go see a bunch of jocks run around a track?” Duo said conversationally to nobody in particular as he popped open his beer and took a swig. “Hilde’s always been the sporty type…”

Quatre shrugged and nibbled the corner of a potato chip before admitting softly, “I like the Olympics.”

“You would. What’s your favorite event to watch?” Duo was eyeing Quatre closely, fully ready to judge his response.

“Diving. Swimming.” Quatre raised a sleek blond brow. “Why?”

Duo laughed, shaking his head. “Exactly what I thought. You like those little, tight speedo thingies.”

Quatre’s face erupted into a deep red blush. “Well, I mean, that’s definitely a perk.”

Chuckling, Duo took a handful of chips out of the bowl and shoved an entire chip into his mouth before pointing at Heero. “I would suggest you take up swimmin’, you already got those stupid tight shorts,” he said through a mouthful of food. “‘Cept I know you don’t know how to swim.” Heero had a reputation for washing up on beaches and lying face down in the water. It was one of Duo’s favorite jabs at him.

“You’re so rude,” Wufei grumbled from the corner of the room where he had been inspecting Heero’s bookcase full of books and technical manuals. “Why did we agree to be your groomsmen?”

“Because none of you look good in a dress,” Duo replied with a smug look. “Well, except maybe Trowa.”

“No.” Trowa firmly dismissed the idea before it could further manifest. He grabbed a can of beer, popped the tab and brought it to his mouth as he settled against Heero’s side, tucking his feet up on the edge of the couch cushion. “I agreed to be your best _man_ , not your brides _maid_.”

It didn’t matter that he looked better in a dress than some of the girls Hilde had selected for her bridal party. He’d do anything for Duo, one of his closest friends, but not _that_.  

Duo smirked. “Yeah, well, we can’t have you showin’ up the ladies now, can we?” The braided man glanced over at Heero, quirked his eyebrow at him and chuckled. “Right, Heero?”

Heero looked up from inspecting the tab of his beer can, almost startled at the sound of his name. He had clearly been lost deep in his own thoughts. “Yeah,” he agreed almost immediately, shifting his eyes quickly from Duo to Trowa as if to affirm the former Deathscythe pilot’s statement before returning his attention back to plucking the metal tab.

Earlier that afternoon all of the groomsmen had gone to be fitted for matching suits and after a little coaxing Duo had convinced Trowa to try on one of the wedding dresses hanging in one of the changing rooms. It didn’t help that they were bored and a little tipsy on the complimentary champagne. As a joke Duo had paraded Trowa out into the lobby on his arm as his mock bride-to-be.

Heero had been standing in front of a circle of mirrors, the tailor tucked under his arm making adjustments to Heero’s jacket. His face hadn’t been what Trowa had expected at all. He had expected Heero to roll his eyes at their antics, waiting for him to call them out on how silly and childish they were acting. Instead Heero’s eyes momentarily widened, intense blue irises locking onto Trowa, analyzing. Assessing him. It was as if Heero was seeing him for the first time, his face mirroring those of the grooms in the photographs on the wall at the front of the store, seeing their brides in their dresses for the very first time.

It was a deeply intimate, personal look, multiplied and reflected for everyone in the room to see by the large, rectangular mirror panels that surrounded him. Trowa had been caught off guard, frozen under Heero’s thoughtful gaze, and it wasn’t until Duo yanked on his arm and laughed that the spell was broken. Suddenly Heero was looking down at the tailor, lips parted, stunned, his face flushed.

What had happened between them? A moment that had begun so lighthearted and amusing had instantly become so much more than that.

And everyone in the boutique had been witness to it. For the remainder of the afternoon Trowa felt Quatre’s gaze shifting between him and Heero as if he were waiting for the spark that had ignited in that moment to catch fire and erupt into something else. Duo had been more blatant about his opinion of what had just happened.

“Oh shit, Heero’s gonna put a ring on it,” Duo had said enthusiastically as they piled back into the dressing room to peel the clingy white dress off of Trowa.

Trowa and Heero had been together for over four years, and he had never thought about marriage until now. Being surrounded by it for nearly six months while Duo and Hilde prepared for their ceremony had made him start thinking about his own life. Would he ever get married? Did he even _want_ that? What about Heero?

Seeing Heero in a suit, surrounded by white satin and flowers had been jarring, and the look he had given him in the mirror had made Trowa want to melt. Trowa hadn’t expected his response to be so moving. It had put thoughts in his head that hadn’t been there before.

Almost as if he had heard Trowa’s thoughts, Heero dropped a hand to rest casually on the top of his thigh, his fingertips caressing the tight denim-clad leg gently.

“You know, I thought women were the ones who obsessed over weddings,” Wufei said as he approached the couch, leaning on the arm, sipping his beer. “You’ve become quite a groomzilla.” Which was true. Duo was micromanaging everything and driving Hilde (and everyone else) insane.

Duo downed the rest of his beer and slammed the empty can down on the coffee table, reaching for a second one with a shrug. “Planning a wedding is stressful. And it only happens once a in lifetime, hopefully, so why not make it perfect? Besides, It’s a BIG deal! I’m the first one outta you fools getting hitched. I gotta set the bar high.” He held his hand up above his head for emphasis.

Wufei rolled his eyes. Trowa groaned internally and shook his head. “Not everyone wants an extravagant ceremony.”

“Not everyone wants to get married.” Wufei added.

“Says the guy who hasn’t even _dated_ anyone in … how long has it been, Fei?” Duo winked at him. “Of course you’re not thinkin’ of gettin’ married. When you do, I’ll be your wedding planner. You too, Trowa. What kinda wedding do you want? Lemme guess, you’re one of those crazy dudes that wants a ceremony while he’s skydivin’ right?”

“I haven’t put much thought into it.” Trowa answered as all eyes in the room shifted to focus on him. All except for his boyfriend’s. Heero was still studying the tab of his beer can like he was at the Louvre observing the most interesting work of art he’d ever seen.

Why did it feel like there was a white elephant in the room? Everyone had seen ‘ _the look’_ _™_ , and ever since all of their friends had been skirting the issue and casting expectant looks at Heero as if he were about to fall to his knees and dig a ring out of his pocket at any moment.

It was embarrassing. Trowa hadn’t meant to become the center of attention. This day wasn’t about him or Heero and yet somehow they were unofficially the next in line to, as Duo said it, ‘get hitched’. It was ridiculous. They hadn’t even moved in with each other yet, so why would they be discussing marriage? Maybe Heero didn’t even want that. He didn’t know how he felt about that possibility.

“What about you, Heero? What’s your perfect ceremony?” Quatre asked curiously, trying to involve Heero in the conversation. Heero finally looked up from his beer can and sighed.

“I haven’t given it much thought, either,” he replied dismissively. Wufei narrowed his eyes.

“Okay, Duo. Stop trying to push your agenda on everyone else. Some of us are too busy with _work_ to think about these sorts of hypotheticals.” Wufei was clearly becoming irritated as well.

Duo sighed and rolled his eyes. “All of ya. Married to your work.” He gestured to Quatre with a grin, “except you. I saw you made L4’s most eligible bachelor last month. How many marriage proposals did you get in the mail, huh?”

“Seventy-three,” Quatre answered honestly, laughing. “And one offer for a ‘casual, polyamorous relationship.’”

“I wonder if that was from anyone we know?” Duo chuckled and looked over at Heero and Trowa with an accusatory expression. He held his finger up and pointed. “You two lookin’ to add a little _excitement_ to your relationship? Trowa, are those piano lessons Quat’s giving you _really_ piano lessons?”

“Whatever he’s teaching Trowa has made his finger dexterity drastically improve,” Heero said in a deadpan voice, looking up again to give Trowa a small smile, teasing him. Quatre chuckled while Duo made a theatrical, mock-groan.

“Waaaay too much information,” said Duo, taking another beer from the table. “Ya freaks. Bleh.”

“Seriously? It can’t be as much information as you gave the other night at dinner about the proper use of a tongue,” Wufei accused him with a frown.

Duo laughed and stuck his tongue out at Wufei, rolling the sides up to form a tube - a hidden skill - and wiggled it at the Chinese man suggestively.

As Wufei and Duo bickered Trowa felt himself relax. Heero’s hand was on his knee, cupping it softly. Eventually they were going to have to sit down and have a serious discussion about what they wanted for the future; if they wanted marriage or not. Trowa lifted a hand to set on top of Heero’s, his fingers tracing his boyfriend’s knuckles affectionately. No matter what the outcome of their conversation may be, he was still happy being with Heero. Nothing was going to change that.

 

* * *

 

He had messed up. Again.

This time they weren’t going to be nice to him. This time he was in big trouble.

The sound of heavy boots stepping closer in the hallway behind his closed cell door forced a raw terror to take hold of 001’s tiny frame. He hugged his skinny legs close against his chest and buried his face into his knees, clenched his eyes closed and willed himself to be anywhere but there.

 _Mom. Maybe it’s Mom,_ he thought desperately. It wasn’t the first time he’d that thought. Despite all that had happened to him, there was still a small flicker of hope that someday his mother would come and take him away from here. That she hadn’t been ripped into pieces by the mobile suit attack, and that he had only imagined seeing her corpse being sucked into the vacuum of space as the colony wall was breached, its inner atmosphere becoming destabilized.

His tired eyes, while closed, replayed the scene in his head like a movie. His mother, dressed in the standard-issue orange colonist emergency jumpsuits all residents had in case of breach, had been running towards him when a blast from an attacking Alliance MS-LEO had knocked her off of her feet. Seconds later the ground beside her was ripped open by another blast, and her mutilated body was sucked out into the dark, chill void of space.

He could still see her corpse spinning wildly upon a wave of shrapnel and debris.

An Alliance soldier had grabbed him and had given his small, shocked body refuge inside his mobile suit. A LEO. It was the first time he’d ever been in a mobile suit. Had he known that he would spend the rest of his young life training in the same exact suit, he would have never let the soldier take him in it.

The Alliance had been the bad guys. So when the CLO had ‘saved’ him from the Alliance soldier he had been happy. They were going to take him back home, maybe they would help him find his family.

He had been wrong.

The Colony Liberation Organization were not made of ‘good guys’. They always told him he would be helping them to ‘do good’, but if they were nice people, why were they so mean to him and the others? Why did they hurt him? Why wouldn’t they help him get home?

Alfonz, one of the doctors, told him that he had no home. That this place was his new home now.

He didn’t like it here. His room was always cold, they never gave him shoes with laces like he used to wear. He had no toys. Once he had made a frog out of a paperclip like he had done once at school back on L1. One of the trainers had found it, and he had been punished.

No toys. No blanket on his bed. No friends.

He wasn’t allowed to talk to the other kids there. He had seen them in the gym sometimes, older kids working with other trainers and people in strange uniforms. They weren’t allowed to look at him. When he came close they were told to turn their back to him, they weren’t supposed to see him.

He just wanted someone to see him. Anyone. Someone to talk to him.

The boots in the hall stopped outside his door. He forced his face up and tried to be brave. His ‘ice face’, the face they liked to see, almost immediately overrode his fearful expression. He couldn’t show them his feelings. It wasn’t allowed.

As the door opened he stared straight ahead, not making eye contact with the man who entered. He didn’t have to look up to see who he was. He recognized his robotic legs and walking cane as he approached.

Dr. Jay. One of only three people who ever spoke to him.

“Let’s go,” Dr. Jay said in his froggy voice. His claw-like hand snapped loudly for emphasis.

001 stood slowly, smoothed the front of his white flight suit down and hesitantly approached the old man. Jay stepped to the side, allowing the boy to pass through the door and out into the hallway.

“Room three,” Jay instructed, following the young boy closely as he obediently went to the third of five training rooms and waited for the door to be opened, his eyes downcasted at his black booted feet.

“I’m sure you’re aware of what is about to happen,” Jay said in a soft voice, his clawed hand nudging the child’s shoulder gently, almost reassuringly. “Just try your best.”

“I’m… I’m sorry-about what happened-I won’t do it again.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Dr. Jay snapped, his tone seemed worried, not unkind. “It’s too late.”

The door to the third training room opened and inside there was nothing but an empty room with a wall covered in mirror. 001 knew that the men in suits were sitting on the other side of the wall. This room was where they tested him, and where the men in the suits watched him do things. This was where they decided what to do with him. He knew he would have to do as they said if he didn’t want them to hurt him again.

He stood in the middle of the room, staring at his own reflection in the mirror impassively. He saw Dr. Jay in the reflection as well,  behind him, hovering inside the doorway, impatiently checking his watch.

001 crossed his arms over his chest, tightly, in an attempt to soothe himself. They had tried to train the gesture out of him before. It was a bad habit, especially if he was ever going to try and infiltrate military academies or anything that required him to stand at attention. Eventually they had stopped trying to beat it out of him and allowed it. Only because his scores on the simulator were so high- at least that was what the sim tech had told him. If he wasn’t so ‘special’ he would be dead by now.

An intercom speaker overhead crackled loudly before the familiar voice 001 often thought of as the leader of the suits spoke. “Subject 001, do you know why you’re here today?”

001 frowned and gave a small nod in response.

“Tell us.”

“I… I refused an assignment.” 001’s arms tightened around himself.

“Refused? Explain.”

“I was instructed to kill an opponent, but I was unable to do so,” 001 answered flatly, his voice forced robotic, cold. Distant. It was the only way to protect himself. He couldn’t let them see he was shaken, or that he was frightened of them. They didn’t want to see any of that. Nobody wanted to see the real _him_ , only the machine they were hoping he’d be.

Even at nine years old, he understood what his purpose was. He wasn’t supposed to be a boy. He was a soldier. They wanted him to act like it.

Along with being fast on his feet, smart and able to outfit the computer battle simulations he had become an convincing actor.

“Why did you refuse your mission?” The intercom growled.

“I didn’t feel that the opponent posed enough of a threat for me to dispatch her through death,” 001 answered carefully. He wondered what the suits were saying. What their faces looked like as they considered his answer.

“Your purpose isn’t to evaluate the situation, merely to execute orders,” came the reply. “You were ordered to kill the opponent, you didn’t follow orders. You failed your mission. Are you afraid to take a life?”

001 tensed. He tried to will the tension out of his shoulders. “No.”

“We’ll see about that.”

A moment of silence was ended by the sound of the door opening behind him. 001 saw one of the techs walk into the room, an animal carrier in hand. 001 was surprised, but tried not to look it. The tech reached into the box and pulled out a small, furry animal from inside.

A puppy. Only two weeks old, helpless. He turned to 001 and shoved the little golden dog into his small hands.

“Kill it,” the intercom commanded.

001 saw his own face grow white in the mirror’s reflection. The little animal was squirming in his hands, warm and soft, its beady black eyes staring straight ahead. It cried out, little chest heaving. He could feel its heartbeat against his palm.

He hesitated. It wasn’t what the suits wanted to see.

“001, we order you to kill.”

He heard them. His hands moved across the puppy’s silky fur, his fingers trembling. It was crying out again, baying for its mother, its weak head flopping around pathetically.

He knew that all he had to do was snap its neck, and he would be free to leave. It would be easy enough, the puppy’s bones were fragile, its body wasn’t fully formed. He could just wrap his hand around its throat and squeeze- easy.

He placed a hand around its neck. It was wriggling around, making it difficult to keep a hold on it. With a frown he started to squeeze. The puppy squeaked and cried out again. He continued to squeeze, willing himself not to stop. It was trying to pull away, its little paws pushing against his other hand, its body tensing reflexively.

001’s shoulders began to shake. His eyes started to water.

The puppy was gasping in his hands.

_No… no… no!_

His fingers released quickly and he began to sob. The tech rolled his eyes and grabbed the puppy out of his hands, obviously annoyed. Frantic, 001 looked up into the mirror’s reflection, seeking Dr. Jay’s face. The only person he cared to impress. The old man was staring at him, his bushy eyebrows raised, goggle-shaped eyes rotating as they focused on him. 001 couldn’t tell if he was happy or mad.

“Bring the other one.” The intercom echoed.

001 was shaking, his body covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He knew he had failed the test. He couldn’t do it. He _wouldn’t_ do it. He knew that later they would hurt him for it.

In the reflection behind him he saw a small figure being ushered into the room. 001 had seen the figure before, in the training arena, at the exam bay. A kid his age, always in black, with a paper medical mask over his face. He was never allowed to talk to him, they were never supposed to be close. A tech had made that mistake once, had put them on treadmills side by side. 001 had tried to speak to him. The other boy had told him he was called ‘002’ before they were ripped apart. 001 never saw that tech again.

002 walked obediently up to the tech.

“Jay, your project failed. It’s time to consider replacing-” the tech said as he held the puppy aloft. Dr. Jay was staring at 001. He said nothing.

“Test 002,” the intercom commanded. The tech handed 002 the puppy.

The other boy was staring down at the little animal. 001 felt his own body quiver as he watched the other kid turn the little, crying creature over in his hands as if to inspect it.

“002. Your order is to destroy the animal,” the tech said coldly, giving 001 a sideways glance of disapproval.

The masked boy nodded, his hands groping the animal as if searching for a weak spot on its body.

001 felt sick. He bit his tongue in an attempt to keep the bile from creeping up his throat any further, his hands clenching into fists as he watched the boy called 002 begin to throttle the little animal.

It was crying. The other boy wasn’t hesitating.

“No.” 001 said softly, body shaking.

“... what?” The tech looked up at him, his eyes narrowing.

The puppy was struggling in 002’s hands. Its cries were becoming hoarse. The other boy wasn’t stopping.

 _He’s not stopping_ , 001 realized suddenly, pure horror overtaking him.

He didn’t remember crossing the ten feet that separated him from the other kid. He couldn’t recall having punched him in the face.

But he had.

The puppy was crawling on the ground, having dropped out of 002’s hands, while the other boy lie on his back on the floor, his medical mask slowly saturating with bright red blood from the nose beneath it, staring up in shock as 001 sat on his chest and began to pummel him.

The tech tried to pull him off. 001 punched him too.

“Restrain him!” The intercom barked its order. The tech struggled to hold 001 back. 002’s arms had raised to protect his face, his blood running down his cheeks.

“No! NO NO NONONO!” 001 screamed, each ‘no’ joined with a swing of his fist, landing it everywhere. Anywhere. The boy under him was yelling, his arms finally activating, fighting back. The tech was knocked off his feet as the to children brawled, 002 getting a few hits on his attacker, 001 screaming as his bloody fist slammed over and over into the other child’s face.

Finally a blow knocked the blood-stained mask off of 002. 001’s arm pulled back, his intention to aim for the other kid’s nose, but he stopped and stared in horror at the face that looked up at him from the floor.

Bloody. Swollen, and bruised. It was _his_ face staring back at him.

-

It always started with them pinning him down, taking away all of his freedom. Making him vulnerable was a punishment, plunging him into darkness, forcing the entire world to vanish so that he was completely alone. There was no comforting light, no solace in _knowing_ what was about to come. There was just nothingness, a vast empty void with only him and his thoughts to occupy him.

He was the _last_ person he wanted to be left alone with.

He pulled at his arms, invisible restraints holding them down on either side of his face. He couldn’t break free of them. He couldn’t breathe, a heavy weight had settled on his chest.

“Help… help me,” he heard his own raspy voice whisper into the blackness, shoulders straining against the nothingness. He yanked his right arm again and again until it broke free, swinging out blindly, the frantic movement fueling his panic. “Help!”

There was a click, accompanied by a blinding flash of light. The darkness fell away, disintegrating around him, revealing a blurred figure lying on top of him. Pinning him down. He swung his free arm again, defensively, yelling in surprise. The figure ducked, snatched his hand out of the air and held it firmly, preventing him from throwing it out again.

“Heero,” Trowa was crooning softly, “Heero, wake up.”

Trowa’s voice repeating his name was a soothing mantra that brought his consciousness to the surface, rousing his rationality, bringing him back into the real world. He stared up at the worried face peering down into his.

“Trowa…” Speaking his lover’s name brought a sense of comfort. Anytime he was with Trowa he was in a safe place. He suddenly realized that the weight on his chest was his boyfriend. Trowa had straddled Heero’s torso, holding his right arm down with his left leg while using his uninjured right arm to hold Heero at bay.

“You’re awake now?” Trowa appeared hesitant, as if uncertain that Heero was actually there. How long had he been fighting him?

“Yeah. Bad dream,” Heero murmured and gave Trowa an apologetic look.

Trowa hesitated before carefully dismounting Heero’s body, freeing him so he could sit up. “What was it about?”

Heero could still feel the warmth of the puppy in his hands, and the chill desolation of isolation still ripe and vivid in his mind. He shook his head, worried that if he spoke about it aloud the memories would never leave.  
  
“I don’t remember,” he lied. He wiped his damp eyes with the back of his arm and took a deep breath.

He hadn’t had a nightmare in a long time and began to wonder what had brought all of these dark memories back to the surface. Suddenly it occurred to him. It had been the ghost he had seen on the street a few days before, the warped mirror image of himself in the crowd. He could still see his own dark, blue eyes staring back at him.  
  
He hadn’t wanted to believe it was real. After seeing his doppelganger he had chalked it up as being nothing more than a side effect of his concussion. Now he wasn’t so sure. Deep down he knew it had to be true. Alpha was _alive,_ and he had seen him.

His thoughts were making sense of what his subconscious was trying to tell him through his dreams. If Alpha was alive, he was in danger. His clone, an unfortunate byproduct of the mobile suit pilot project on L1, had been his worst enemy. He had been pitted against his replica. They had competed for the right to live, had fought hand to hand viciously, striving for survival, wishing the other dead as a means of protecting themselves from being ‘taken out of the program’.

If Alpha was alive then what did it mean? What if the CLO hadn’t disbanded? What if they were searching for Heero, looking to get revenge on him for his abandoning Operation Meteor? What if they had cloned him again somehow and the new clone had been sent out to kill him? Dr. Jay had told him long ago that Alpha had been destroyed, that his alternate was no longer needed once he had won the candidacy for Gundam pilot.

So how had he survived?

Heero’s hands were trembling. He tried to hide them under his covers, his eyes downcast at the faint stripes woven within the soft, crisp cotton fabric. There was no way Alpha was alive, and if he were, why would he be on L4? Why would he want to be anywhere that Heero was? He would be free to explore the entire Earth-Sphere, to be his own person, why would he risk being seen on this colony?

Somehow this warped logic was oddly soothing. Heero ran a quivering hand nervously through his hair and sighed. He didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to tell Trowa about what he had done as a kid, or worry him with the details of his horrific childhood. What if he was seeing things? He had no proof that his clone even existed aside from a fleeting glance of someone in a crowd. It wasn’t worth getting Trowa worked up over. He didn’t want his boyfriend to think he was crazy.

“Just a bad dream. Not worth talking about.” Trowa was an avid animal lover. If Heero told him he had been trained to strangle puppies Trowa may never speak to him again.

“Alright.” Trowa replied with a shrug, sensing that Heero was in no mood to discuss his dream. He didn’t push him further, instead lying back against the sheets, reaching up to tug on Heero’s arm and pull him down alongside him.

They faced each other as they settled on their sides. Trowa was careful not to put any weight on his injured elbow, the fabric from his sling rubbing against his bare chest as he made himself comfortable again.

The sight of the sling still bothered Heero. Trowa kept insisting that it was just an ‘accident’ but it could have been easily avoided. The reality was that he had been driving like a madman. Wufei always claimed he was like a rabid dog when he was on the hunt for something, unwavering, out of control and willing to turn on his own. He was beginning to think that description wasn’t far from the truth. Had he drove a little more conservatively Trowa wouldn’t have gotten hurt and he wouldn’t have wasted forty-thousand credits of Preventer funds.

“Do you remember our first kiss?” Trowa asked, attempting to change the topic.

Heero nodded his head and frowned, forcing his thoughts to settle so he could focus on Trowa’s question.

“Yeah,” he replied faintly, his fingers twitching. He needed contact, needed to feel the smooth, soothing softness of Trowa’s body. It was one of the only things that could ground him. He absently stuck his leg out, his foot resting on top of one of Trowa’s. “Why?”

“Why? Because it’s one of my favorite memories.” Trowa admitted. It didn’t matter that his boyfriend remembered that night so many years ago. He was going to repeat the story anyway.

“You were laying in my bed in the trailer, all bandaged up, seemingly dead to the world. I came in to check on you and took a seat on the edge of the bed, thinking you were asleep. I don’t know how long I sat there, but the sky had changed from blue to muted shades of orange and pink. I remember studying your lips. I reached out to touch them, like this,” Trowa held his hand up and placed the tip of his pointer finger on Heero’s bottom lip, tracing it slowly.

“You didn’t move, so I continued to explore them with my fingers, with my eyes. It wasn’t enough.” He withdrew his hand and pulled the sheets around their bodies, a smug smile gracing his features. “I leaned in and hovered my mouth over yours, felt your warm breath on my skin, thanked the stars that you were alive. I remember hesitating, debating whether or not to kiss you without your permission. I had never kissed anyone before, I didn’t know what the hell I was doing,” Trowa confessed, holding Heero’s gaze with his own. “But you looked so peaceful laying there, your lips parted, inviting... and I couldn’t help myself. I pressed my mouth firmly to yours and was surprised when your hand shot up to grasp my throat, holding me there, your lips forming against mine… You had been awake the entire time.” He gave his partner a knowing look.

Trowa’s sister had burst into the room, ruining the moment before they could take it any further, causing the two teenagers to quickly pull apart. They had never spoken of that kiss again, both afraid that their growing attraction to one another would distract them from their mission, Trowa later believing Heero was interested in Relena and not him. It had been a foolish kiss and nothing more.

But now here they lay, seven years later, comfortable in their relationship, both unable to fully function without the other. They had kissed a thousand times since then and would kiss a thousand times more. It was funny how things worked out.

“Is this your way of asking me for a kiss?” Heero asked, distracted by the story, amused. He knew that Trowa was trying to make him think of something else -- something better. It worked. He grabbed his boyfriend’s wrist and pressed a soft kiss to his fingertip. “All you’ve got to do is ask.”

“Now I have to ask?” Trowa replied, smiling. He wiggled his finger against Heero’s lips and shook his head. “I used to be able to just _take_ one when I wanted it…”

Heero’s hand slid down his wrist, his fingertips affectionately caressing as they traveled to his elbow. “Then take it.”

A sleek eyebrow raised, Trowa rolled his eyes and sighed, pretending to look disinterested. “Maybe I don’t want it.”

A snort. Heero tugged his elbow and smirked. “Liar.”

Trowa chuckled and nodded, leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to Heero’s lips. “You’re right. I am.”  
  
His bad dream completely forgotten, Heero busied himself with giving his thoughtful lover a few thankful kisses before wrapping his arms carefully around Trowa, careful not to jostle his injured arm. He closed his eyes and let himself enjoy his companion’s closeness. He felt better. Trowa always knew how to soothe his mind.

 _I’m safe whenever Trowa’s here,_ he reminded himself again. It was true. During Operation Meteor Trowa and Catherine had been the first thing he had seen when he woke from his failed self-destruction. When he had gone out to seek Sylvia Noventa and ask her forgiveness Trowa had taken care of him, had kept him on track and protected him from the Alliance soldiers while he was distracted with his own personal mission. Trowa had been alongside him for his fight against Zechs, had given him his mobile suit as his own was unfit to fight. Even disguised as an OZ soldier Trowa had protected him, taking him out of the prison cell and arranging for him to fight in the OZ prototype suit, the safest place Heero could have been.

Trowa was his best friend, even then, and now he had evolved into more than that. He was irreplaceable to Heero, the only constant thing in his life he could rely on. He couldn’t imagine living without him. The thought had occurred to him once before, earlier at the wedding boutique when Trowa had pranced out of the back room with Duo, clad in a dress. Heero had been surprised. He knew that Trowa had worn dresses before with his sister for shows or for fun, but he had never actually seen him in one before. The effect of his tall, lean lover elegantly draped in white silk, his long neck and shoulders exposed, effortlessly graceful and lovely had taken his breath away. He found himself wanting to see more, but too shocked to turn around and actually _look_ at him, afraid that if he looked away from the mirror the magic of the moment would have vanished.

He had been thinking about it ever since.

With a sigh he buried his face into Trowa’s shoulder and closed his eyes, feeling emotionally drained. He felt Trowa’s hands run affectionately through his hair, saying nothing, not questioning him, expressing his silent understanding.

“Thank you,” Heero murmured against his bare shoulder, his hand moving to blindly find his boyfriend’s injured arm, gently caressing it through the sling. Trowa had been with him through so many things, and had never once faltered in being there for him. “I don’t deserve you.”

Trowa shook his head and dropped his hand from Heero’s hair to caress the side of his face. “How could you say that?”

Heero frowned, his expression hidden against Trowa’s shoulder. “Because I love you.” _And you deserve so much better than me._

They didn’t use those words very often. Heero made a point of not repeating the sentiment frivolously, never throwing it around in the heat of passion or using it insincerely. When he said it he meant it.

In this case the words didn’t seem meaningful enough. They weren’t heavy enough, didn’t express just how intensely in _love_ he really was with Trowa. His feelings were limited to all that the English language would allow.

Frustrated, his statement sounding weak to his own ear, he lifted his head and pressed his lips against Trowa’s ear. “I love you,” he whispered again, his tone more gentle than it usually was. He didn’t open his eyes to look at Trowa’s face. He didn’t have to see him to know he was smiling at him. He heard it in his voice as his lips shaped his reply.

“I love you, too.”


	4. Apparition

Trowa stared down at his uncooperative fingers, the Bach Goldberg Aria that Quatre had been attempting to school him on seeming much more difficult than it actually was. His hands were clumsy from disuse, his arm only that morning having been freed from its sling, and his fingers kept tripping over one another, missing their marks. He was distracted, and his instructor knew it. He set his disobedient hands in his lap and looked to his left at Quatre, who was seated close beside him on the piano bench, and frowned apologetically.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think I can do this tonight,” he explained. Quatre nodded and pat him reassuringly on the shoulder.

“It’s okay, we all have our off days. Is something going on? You were really quiet at dinner tonight, too.” Despite Trowa’s best attempts to hide his worries, Quatre’s innate empath abilities were always on target.

Trowa nodded and began tapping the B♭ key with his middle finger, the note pinging off of the strings, filling the room with a methodical repetition as he thought about what to say.

“I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately,” Trowa began, pausing in his striking of the key to look up at his friend. “That’s all.” The look on Quatre’s face made it very clear that he already _knew_ what was on Trowa’s mind, he was just waiting for permission to ask about it.

“You know…?” Trowa added, giving Quatre an open door into his mind, allowing him to speak the thoughts that he himself couldn’t comfortably vocalize. It was this symbiosis that made their friendship so strong, so unique.

“You’re worried about everyone pressuring you and Heero into getting married?” asked Quatre.

“No, not that.” Trowa thought about it for a moment and then sighed. “Alright. Maybe that’s a part of it.”

His good-natured friend smiled and leaned over to nudge Trowa’s shoulder with his own. “You’re worried because you don’t want that level of commitment? Or are you afraid of being tied down?” He asked.

Quatre turned away to study the plane of white and black keys before them, his smile fading slightly at the corners as his thoughts became less optimistic and friendly. Trowa immediately knew what had brought Quatre’s mood down.

Years before when they first had met during Operation Meteor Quatre had suggested that they stick together, that they _fight_ as a team, and Trowa had blown him off. At the time he hadn’t wanted to work with anyone. He was used to operating alone, and he didn’t consider Quatre a fierce fighter or his equal.  Of course he had been dead wrong about that.

Originally Trowa thought that the compassionate, kindly blond was going to get in his way and he didn’t want to have to babysit some spoiled rich kid. He had told Quatre that he fought better alone and he didn’t want to become ‘committed’ to anything or anyone.

Then Trowa ended up teaming with Heero during Operation Meteor, which had been a low blow to Quatre. He knew that it had hurt him, and when the blond found them working together protecting that colony in the OZ Mercurius and Vayeate suits he knew that it wasn’t the raw influence of ZERO that had sent Quatre over the edge.

Quatre losing his father had been bad enough, but then there Trowa was, paired off with someone else after having lectured him about how he ‘operated alone’. It definitely had fueled Quatre’s rage, whether his gentle friend would ever admit it or not.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,” admitted Trowa. The truth was that being with Heero just sort of _happened_.

He often wondered what things would be like now if he hadn’t picked up Heero’s rumpled, badly injured body that day on the battlefield. Would Heero have died? At the very least he would have been taken by the enemy. Would they have ever met outside of their mobile suits had he not taken Heero to the circus? Would he be where he was now, in a _fully committed_ relationship with _Heero_ or would he be with someone else? _Quatre?_ Or maybe he would have ended up alone?

The truth was he hadn’t ever considered being with Heero after the war, and then when that happened he never thought it would become this serious. It wasn’t for lack of wanting, he couldn’t think of being with anyone else. He was happy with how things were going, he just didn’t know if he was the type to be married. He had never considered that someone would want to spend their whole life with him.

He couldn't bring himself to utter his fears aloud, but he knew he didn't have to. Quatre had looked up from the piano, his expression beaming with its usual positive, unwavering supportiveness.

“Whatever happens, happens.” Trowa tilted his head at Quatre and sighed. “I’m not trying to get worked up about it. I’ve gotten this far with that logic, so I guess I’ll keep it.”

He wrapped an arm around Quatre’s slumped shoulders and squeezed it them in an appreciative gesture. He really was thankful to have a friend like him.

“I’m more concerned about sleep. I haven’t had any in a few days. Heero has been having nightmares lately, and I’m not sure what I can do to help him,” he explained, gesturing to his face and the shadows that had accumulated beneath his eyes. Quatre looked up at him, worried.

“Really? Has he always had them or are they just getting worse?” Quatre asked curiously, his helpful and analytical personality rising to the surface.

“He’s never had one since we started dating, at least, not when I have slept over.” Trowa released Quatre’s shoulder, ran a hand through his hair and rolled his shoulders as he thought about it.

Heero had his quirks and there was no denying that he had some residual issues leftover from his past. He kept the lights on in the apartment unless Trowa was there with him, like a kid fearing boogiemen in the dark. He always unconsciously kept his back to a wall whenever they were in public. He never wore headphones in the gym, he always seemed hypervigilant and incredibly aware of his surroundings.

Trowa had noticed minute things about Heero that on the surface hadn't seemed like much, certainly his face never betrayed his anxieties, but he knew his partner enough to know there was more going on than met the eye, mostly because he shared many of the same fears. Looking at Heero was often like gazing into a mirror. Maybe that's why they got along so well? They never stepped on each other's toes, and shared a deep, quiet understanding of the other’s needs.   

They each made the other feel safe, and had increasingly become dependent on one another to feel _normal_.

They did everything together, whether they were aware of it or not. Every morning Trowa met Heero at the same corner to walk the last block to headquarters. They shared the same office, were partner's at work, most nights had dinner together and on weekends hung out or worked from home on cases, side by side.

It would have been logical to move in together by now, but Trowa still had his own place, or rather he shared one with Quatre. The Winner heir lived a dual life as a CEO and Preventer agent and traveled frequently. He purchased a condo down the street from Preventer HQ for convenience and Trowa had offered to rent a room on the property to help keep an eye on it while Quatre was gone. It was nice to have someone to come home to, and he knew that Quatre enjoyed his company as well.

Heero seemed understanding of their arrangement and encouraged Trowa to stay, despite his apparent need for Trowa's company himself.

Trowa flinched as he flexed his arm, his left elbow was still sore from the accident. He had been cleared to move it, he was still hesitant to do so. The joint felt loose, a dull ache still present deep in the surrounding tendons. He was glad to be rid of the sling, he had grown tired of Heero’s worried looks and mumbled apologies every time his boyfriend accidentally bumped into his arm. He absently rubbed at his tender elbow and turned his attention to the sheet music on the stand on top of the piano.

“Do you think maybe the accident triggered it?” Quatre asked, putting the tip of his slender finger against his lower lip as he thought about it. “Concussion? Is something else going on in his life? Maybe he’s fighting with Relena?”

Trowa shook his head. “I don’t think it was the accident, he’s been through worse, but the timing does seem to correlate with it.” And as far as Relena went, Heero was definitely _not_ fighting with her, much to Trowa’s dissapointment.

Quatre was silent, his eyes narrowed as he considered the situation. “Maybe,” he began slowly, turning to study Trowa’s face as he spoke, “he has a hard time seeing _you_ hurt, and he has some repressed guilt about it?”   
  
Trowa frowned. He didn’t think so, but it could be possible. “He’s seen me injured before.”

“Yes, but not to the point that you were in a cast or a sling. Maybe that was bothering him?” Quatre’s reasoning seemed sound enough.

“Possibly,” Trowa murmured. “Maybe now that it’s off he won’t be so on edge…”

Quatre nodded and stood from the bench, stretching his arms over his head. It was late, almost eleven o’clock, their piano lesson was over.

“I’m sure that’s it,” he said reassuringly, padding across the large common room in the direction of his bedroom. He paused in front of his door and leaned his back against the frame and smiled.

“Maybe you two should go somewhere, you know, for fun? That thing _normal_ people do, instead of holing up in the apartment laying in bed all day?” Quatre was well aware of Trowa and Heero’s antisocial tendencies.

“Maybe,” Trowa replied. It was a good suggestion. They had been so wrapped up in work lately that some time away from the office and the city may do them both some good. “What about you? You've been working non-stop for almost a year, why don't you take a vacation?”

Quatre frowned, and for a moment his eyes flickered with worry. “I'm actually taking the next few days off to go visit Rashid. His wife called, he hasn't been doing very well…”

Trowa could see that it was serious by the look on Quatres face. Rashid had been struggling with his health for a few years, and it was common knowledge that his pancreatic cancer had returned. He hadn't realized how serious the situation had become.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Trowa asked. He had gone with Quatre on one of his trips to Baku to visit the former leader of the Maganacs once before when he was first diagnosed. It had been difficult to see Rashid without his trademark beard and hair but at the time he was still strong and imposing as ever. That had been two remissions ago.

“Oh, no, it's fine. I know it's last minute anyway, I'll be okay.” Quatre quickly dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. “I should probably get some sleep, I've got a flight tomorrow bright and early.”

Trowa couldn't help but smile. Quatre was wealthy beyond measure and had access to a private shuttles and VIP services but he still insisted on taking public shuttles and transit when he traveled.

“Alright. Safe travels,” said Trowa as he closed the piano up for the night and made his way to the narrow stairs at the back of the massive room. He paused to look over his shoulder at his friend. “Goodnight. Thanks for the advice.”

“Anytime,” Quatre chirped before he vanished into his bedroom, one of his massive doors closing with a faint click. Trowa clicked off the light and made his way upstairs to his room.

 

* * *

 

Work had been long and tedious. Heero had to close out three cases, had finished a mountain of paperwork, suffered through two meetings and a private one-on-one bitch-out with Une who had given him his formal reprimand for wrecking the agency’s sedan and costing the agency almost 55k in damages. All he wanted to do now was go home, throw his uniform in the trash and bury himself in his bed.

Why had he joined Preventer, anyway?

As he approached the door to his apartment he fumbled around in his jacket pocket for his key. The thick edge of a small, rectangular business card brush against his fingers as he groped around in his pocket. Lucy Denton from accounting had given him the card as a recommendation.

Apparently it was the _only_ place to get an engagement ring. He had gone to accounting on his lunch break to discuss moving some of his funds around for a ‘big purchase’ and Lucy had dragged the truth right out of him. The next thing he knew she was telling him what kind of diamond cut to get. She was a wealth of knowledge on the subject of proposals, which was surprising to him considering she wasn’t dating anyone and had never been engaged or married. Even still, she had helped to quell some of his anxiety about the subject and had answered every possible question he had about proposals. He was definitely ready to ask.

That was _if_ he even went through with it. The thought had simply come to him on a whim, fueled by the incident at the bridal boutique and seeing Trowa flouncing around in that dress.

He didn’t even know if Trowa would take the idea seriously. They’d never really discussed serious long-term plans like that before.

He dropped his things inside the door to the left like he always did, and turned around to set all four of the door’s deadbolts before he drifted into the kitchen.

His mail was still sitting on the counter where he had left it that morning. He picked it up, flipping through the envelopes. A red, embossed envelope was at the bottom of the stack. He turned it over in his hand and smirked. Duo’s official wedding invitation. He didn’t have to open it to know what it was, the former Deathscythe pilot had sent him seven different prototypes before settling for one. He set his mail aside, grabbed a glass of water, sipped it and walked into his living room. As he entered the room he was met with the loud, familiar click of a pistol safety switch.

“About time you showed up,” a voice said slowly.

His voice. Heero’s head shot up, his eyes widening as he stared into the business end of a gun, his own solemn face staring back at him from the opposite side of the pistol’s sights.

“Hands behind your head. Now.” Alpha demanded coldly, impatiently, not allowing Heero time to get over the shock of seeing him sitting there. He was seated on the couch, leg crossed casually over the knee, his relaxed posture competing with the deadly serious expression on his face.   

Heero felt a chill course through his body, every cell in his being momentarily frozen. All of his suspicions and fears had been true. He was stunned. Suddenly the perfect soldier in him clicked on, his survival drive taking over, overriding his shock. His arm swung forward and he threw the glass of water at the other Heero’s face.

BAM!

Alpha had ducked the incoming glass. A muted gunshot sounded and Heero stumbled backward as a bullet tore a path through his shirt, grazing the flesh beneath, leaving a deep and bloody gash in its wake.

“You’ve always been the disobedient one,” Alpha, his clone, said with an amused smile, his pistol aimed for Heero’s head. “Now sit the fuck down before I plant the next bullet in your brain.”

Heero knew his mirror self wasn’t bluffing. Flinching, he grabbed at the fresh wound, his coppery blood oozing between his fingers, hot and sticky. With a scowl he reluctantly sat down on a chair across from the couch.

“What the fuck are you doing here? You’re supposed to be dead.” Heero seethed, his voice strained with pain. “And why are you wearing my clothes?”

Alpha was wearing Heero’s favorite t-shirt and a pair of his distressed jeans. As Heero looked closer he could see one of his expensive watches wrapped around his clone’s wrist. Anger began to rise up the back of his throat.

“They’re my clothes now,” Alpha said with a shrug, running his hand through his newly trimmed hair. “It’s nice to see that we’re still the same size. Although I should tell you that your obsession with shoes has gotten a little out of control. I counted almost thirty pairs of sneakers in your closet. I think it’s time for an _intervention_.”

Heero heard the intent in Alpha’s voice, and could immediately sense his intentions. It was clear that Alpha had something else in mind, sitting there in his clothes, making himself at home in Heero’s house. The bullet had missed its mark, which surely should have been his head or heart, but instead had only nicked his flesh. Alpha was an accomplished marksman, the minor wound had been intentional, too. Still clutching his shoulder, Heero leaned forward, trying to keep his anger in check.

“Get the hell out of here now before I kill you,” he snarled. Blood dripped from his hand and spattered into his uniform slacks, dropping onto the cream colored carpet.

“That’s rich. You’ve always been the dumber one,” Alpha replied, unfazed by Heero’s empty threat. “Nice place you have here,” he gestured to the living room with his free hand, his pistol still aimed at Heero’s head. “I will have to make a few changes. Those accent pillows are terrible, they’re the first thing to go.” He nodded towards the brightly colored pillows on the couch. “The job too, that uniform isn’t very flattering.”

“You’re trying to take over my life?” Heero hissed from across the table. “Over my dead body-”

Suddenly the coffee table flew up into the air, Heero’s toe having hooked under the edge to send it launching at Alpha, all of its contents scattering to the floor, a decorative bowl shattering as it fell against the couch.

“You’re making a mess.” Alpha shot up to his feet and ducked out of the way before the table could roll on top of him. “We could have done this the easy way, but then again nothing was ever easy when it came to you.” He snarled and launched himself at Heero, tackling him to the ground where they proceeded to wrestle until Alpha could get Heero’s arms secured behind his back, face down against the carpet. He put his entire weight on top of the other, holding him there with brute strength.

Leaning down so that his lips hovered above Heero’s right ear, Alpha said in a flat and icy tone, “Yes. I’m taking your life. And if it’s over your dead body, so be it. But not yet. I still have use for you.”

Heero groaned as his injured shoulder dug into the carpet, irritated that Alpha had gotten the drop on him. He had spent his whole civilian life being cautious, careful.

“How did you get in here?” Heero snarled, turning his face, his cheek rubbing against the floor. He pulled at his arms in an attempt to free them but immediately regretted that decision as a raw shooting pain coursed through his injured shoulder.

“I told the landlord I lost my key and he was kind enough to give me a spare. What a nice guy...” Alpha reached around with one hand to fish something out of his back pocket while digging his left knee into Heero’s lower back. When his captive cried out in pain a satisfied smirk appeared on Alpha’s lips. “We’ve got a lot to catch up on, but for now I think you should rest. You look tired. Stressed. It isn’t good for your health. We can't have that, I need you at your best.”

The thing he had pulled from his pocket was a syringe. Heero turned his head to the side and watched as Alpha placed the cap in between his teeth, biting down and yanking it off with a loud pop. Light reflected off the surface of the long, skinny needle, and Heero tried to struggle, to fight his clone off, but it was no use. He couldn’t stop what was about to happen. When the needle kissed the sensitive skin on his neck and he felt the injection of its contents burn through his veins, he knew it was game over.


	5. Stranger

Monday through Friday their morning routine was always the same. At 8:10 sharp Trowa would meet his boyfriend at the corner of 7th and Blanchard where they’d share a brief good-morning kiss before walking hand in hand towards the shiny, reflective towers that made up L4’s Preventer headquarters. Along the way they’d stop at the end of the block and duck inside a small coffee shop to order the usual- an Americano for Heero and a cappuccino with a dash of cinnamon for Trowa. Hands no longer touching, the couple would make their way through security check and then proceed to the 31st floor of the main Preventer building where they’d enter their shared office. By 8:30 they would be situated at their desks, sipping on coffee while they booted up their computers and checked their emails.

For the past two years the routine had been the same. The only exception was when they were out on the field for a mission.

It was now 8:34 on a Monday morning and Trowa was standing in the coffee shop alone, looking down at his phone while he waited for the chatty barista to finish making his drink.

No new messages.

“Where’s your boyfriend?”

Trowa’s head snapped up and he quickly pocketed his phone as the barista handed him a white paper cup with ‘Heero’ written on the side. A small heart was affectionately drawn next to the name, colored in with pink marker.

“Running late.” He said with a shrug.

“Oh. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy that ‘runs late’.” The barista smiled and started making a second drink.

“Yeah…”

The truth was Trowa had _no idea_ where Heero was. He’d stood around at their meeting spot for 20 minutes waiting for the other, his texts and phone calls having gone unanswered. When it became apparent that his boyfriend wasn’t going to show up Trowa had made his way to the coffee shop, bewildered and worried, and very much in need of a caffeine fix.

Maybe his partner had gone into work early that morning and had forgotten to let him know, or had been called in last minute by Une? Perhaps he had left his phone at home and that was why Heero wasn’t answering Trowa’s messages?

It was unlikely. Heero was _never_ late and would have notified Trowa had anything come up. Something wasn’t right.

All weekend his boyfriend had been uncharacteristically dodging him. Two full days had gone by since they’d last been together.

On the weekends Trowa usually stayed over at Heero’s and every Friday was ‘date night’. Everything had seemed fine when the two had parted ways after work last week. Heero had mentioned that he was tired so Trowa suggested that they spend the night in watching Netflix. They had agreed to meet up just after dinner.

Only an hour after arriving at his own apartment Trowa had received a text from Heero saying he wasn’t feeling the best and that he thought they should postpone their date.

With Quatre out of town, the large condo they shared suddenly felt too empty. Trowa didn’t want to spend Friday night alone, so he texted Heero back offering to bring him some soup and vitamin water, but his boyfriend had insisted that he was ‘fine’ and that he shouldn’t worry. He said he would text in the morning.

The text didn’t pop up on Trowa’s phone screen until closer to lunchtime the following day. Heero was telling him that he had some ‘urgent’ business to take care of that weekend and that they likely wouldn’t see each other. Spending an entire weekend apart _wasn’t_ something they usually did, unless they were separated for work. Not being one to pry, Trowa had frowned down at his phone and responded with a simple ‘Okay’.

That was the last text he’d exchanged with him until this morning when he’d asked Heero where he was.

Still no new messages.

Was this Heero’s indirect way of telling him that he needed some time apart? If so, why couldn’t he be upfront with him like he was about everything else?

“Here you go.” The barista snapped Trowa out of his thoughts once again and shoved a second paper cup into his hand. His own name was scrawled along the side, minus the heart.

With one cup in each hand, Trowa thanked the barista and headed out of the coffee shop, eyes scanning the crowds of people that littered the sidewalks. There were no signs of Heero.

 

* * *

 

Security check at the front entrance had been a bitch that morning, especially while juggling two coffees. It was almost 9 AM by the time Trowa finally made his way up to his office on the 31st floor. He used his back to push the heavy wooden door open before slipping inside, quickly composing himself before turning around to look expectantly in the direction of his partner’s desk.

Heero was sitting there, eyes glued to his monitor like it was just a normal day at the office. Like he _hadn’t_ stood Trowa up at the corner of 7th and Blanchard earlier that morning.

It was suddenly very hard to suppress his frustration, but Trowa forced it down the back of his throat with a harsh swallow. He tried to give his boyfriend the benefit of the doubt, knowing there had to be a logical reason for his strange behavior. He loved the other and he trusted Heero to inform him if there was something wrong.

Five long strides and Trowa was standing over Heero’s desk. He set the Americano down and forced the worry and concern from his face. “Morning.”

Blue eyes looked up and widened in surprise as if seeing him for the first time. Their gaze traveled over his facial features, carefully studying them before moving lower to take in the rest of his body. “Trowa.” Heero finally spoke.

“Heero. How was your weekend?” Trowa’s voice was stiff as he stood there, his expression blank.

“Uh… It was fine. Busy.” Heero tore his gaze away from Trowa and looked over at the coffee at the corner of his desk. He picked it up and immediately spotted the little pink heart scribbled on the side. His brows knitted in confusion.

“Mia,” Trowa explained and headed over to his own desk. It seemed like Heero wasn’t going to confide in him about the ‘urgent’ plans that had come up over the weekend. And he wasn’t apologizing for this morning, nor was he explaining why he hadn’t answered Trowa’s texts.

With a sigh he sat down and turned on his computer. “She has a crush on you, remember? After two years of heart doodles, I would have thought you’d have taken the hint by now.”

Heero said nothing. He brought the cup to his lips and took a steady sip.

The awkward silence that followed was unbearable. Trowa couldn’t stand it. Not now. Not after 48 hours without seeing Heero. “Do you feel better? Was it just a cold or…?”

“A bug. It only lasted a few days. I’m… sorry that I didn’t see you this weekend. I missed you.” Heero was looking over at Trowa again, his cool gaze assessing his every move, appraising him like an expensive piece of jewelry. It sent a shiver down Trowa’s spine.

“What happened this morning? You didn’t meet me at our spot or answer my messages…” Trowa hoovered the cursor of his mouse over random emails in his inbox, clicking here and there, not really reading anything. He was too distracted, too concerned with Heero’s unusual behavior.

“I got called in early. I left home in a rush and forgot my phone.”

Trowa involuntarily winced at Heero’s cold response. It felt like he was forcing a conversation with a stranger, the warmth from Heero’s voice when they typically spoke to one another was gone, his replies seemed almost robotic.

He’d never doubted their relationship before. Heero had never given him a reason to. There had always been a sense of security and stability between them. Trowa felt confident around Heero, sure in his decisions, comfortable in his presence. But not this morning. An unsettling feeling was looming over them like an incoming storm and Trowa couldn’t shake it. Had he done something to upset his partner?

As if reading his mind, Heero rose from his chair and quickly crossed the room to stand next to him. Hands sank into his shoulders, giving an apologetic squeeze. “I’m sorry. Some _unexpected_ things happened this weekend and I should have called you.” Heero offered, leaning in to nuzzle the side of Trowa’s cheek, lingering for a moment as silence washed over them again.

Trowa felt Heero’s fingers knead his sore muscles, working their way to the back of his neck where they massaged the knot at the base of his skull. The touches were gentle, careful, and hesitant at first. Familiar fingertips ran along the sensitive flesh lining his neck, encircling his throat for a minute before pulling away.

Trowa didn’t dare speak. He didn’t know what to say, his breath catching as his lips struggled to form words that refused to be vocalized.

Unexpected things? They never kept anything from each other, so what excuse did Heero have for not informing him of said unexpected things? Why did he feel like his lover was hiding something?

“Come over tonight,” Heero murmured. “I miss you. Come over and I’ll explain what happened this weekend. Stay with me for the night?”

An alert for a meeting popped up on Trowa’s monitor. He had 5 minutes before he needed to be in the conference room on the 12th floor, which meant that there wasn’t time to continue this conversation.

“Alright. What time should I stop by?”

“Any time after 7. Does that work?”

“Affirmative.” Trowa replied, borrowing the famous one-liner from his partner as he closed out of his inbox with the click of the mouse. His stomach was in knots. He reached over to grab his coffee as he stood, giving his partner one last look before exiting their office.

 

* * *

 

A pair of cool hands were exploring his body, tracing the lines of his face, caressing his neck and shoulders. As he rose through the darkness of his unconsciousness he felt those hands tugging at his arms, rubbing the tops of his hands, bringing him back to life.

 _Trowa,_ his mind immediately supplied. He had been here before, lying in a bed, mind clouded with pain as those hands worked their magic on him and resurrected him from the land of the dead. In the past he had been hesitant to follow those hands, afraid of where they would lead him, but now he trusted the man they belonged to. He would follow those slender, gentle fingers anywhere.

A soft, involuntary sound escaped his lips; a noise blended with relief and satisfaction.

The hands sharply retreated from him. Why had they stopped? Someone gasped in surprise.

It wasn’t Trowa.

Heero’s eyes shot open and he immediately regretted it. The light in his face was blinding, and he winced and turned his face away from it in an attempt to relieve the pounding migraine that had quickly filled his skull.

“This is _so_ weird,” a woman’s voice murmured from the opposite side of the light. “I just can’t believe it…”

Heero panicked. Where was he? Who was that, and where was Trowa? His arms reflexively moved to shield his face from the light but were prevented from doing so. They had been bound. To his sides? Was he on a bed?

The light shifted and moved away from his face. His vision was filled with pinpricks of light and swam with cloud, dark splotches but even so he could see a woman’s face peering back at him.

Survival instincts kicked in. He pulled at his arms again, shifting his weight against the bed, attempting to free himself. It was no use, he couldn't pull his arms or legs from their restraints.

The woman’s large, brown doe-like eyes blinked in surprise.

“Calm down, you'll hurt yourself,” she chastised him firmly, pressing a hand into his chest. It was a pointless gesture, he couldn’t get up even if he tried. “Just try to relax.”

Relax? Heero’s eyes shifted from side to side, searching his surroundings. To his surprise they were very familiar. He was in the spare room of his apartment. What had once been a room filled with boxes and odds and ends had now been set up to look like a makeshift hospital room. IV poles hung over his head with large, clear rectangular bags of fluid dripping down into tubes that ran down the sides of the bed, tangling over his shoulders and arms. IVs had been inserted into his forearms, which were strapped down with leather bindings to the frame of the bed. Nearby was a bulky white machine that had tubes of blood running in and out of it. His blood.

What was it doing to his blood?

As he followed the path of the tubing he realized that it ran from one arm, through the machine and then back to his body. His arms tingled; the right one stung and felt chilled as his filtered blood returned to his body. He shuddered, suddenly realizing just how _cold_ he felt. He looked down and realized he was clad in a flimsy t-shirt and his blue underwear. A blanket was balled up at the foot of the bed between his bound feet.

“Who are you?” he hissed, tugging at his arms again, testing their hold. His shoulder stung from the bullet wound Alpha had given him the night before. It _had_ only been one night, hadn’t it? Quickly he checked the nearby window and saw that black curtains had been draped over the blinds and couldn’t gauge what time it was.

His eyes ached as his mind tried to make sense of what was happening. Who was this woman, and where was Alpha?

“Oh my god, you even sound alike.” She was gawking at him as if he had sprouted a second head.

Heero narrowed his eyes at her. She pulled away and laughed at him. “You even make _that_ face, too!”

Her amusement was pissing him off. Fists clenched, he strained hard against his wrist restraints again and glowered at her. “What are you doing here? Who are you? Where’s Alpha?”  
  
For a moment she appeared momentarily afraid, her smile fading. She backed away from the bed and ran her hand through her short, wavy honey brown hair and shrunk under his gaze.

“He’ll be back soon. Just try to stay calm, you don’t want to get your blood pressure too high or…”

Almost as if on cue something tightened around Heero’s leg. An automated blood pressure cuff. It squeezed hard and deflated, a small monitor over his head beeping loudly. He couldn’t see what the reading was.

Heero shuddered again and the hairs on his arms and legs stood on end. He pursed his lips in an attempt to keep them from trembling. It had been a long time since he had felt cold, once upon a time he could handle hypothermic conditions, but now his current lifestyle didn’t provide much opportunity to put his body to the test. He glanced down at his feet and saw the tips of his toes were losing color, his feet paling.

“Shit. Oh, shit… sorry. He told me not to let you get cold. You’re cold, right?” The young woman frowned and backed away from the bed, looking left and right, searching the room for something. “I’ll just take this and heat it up. You wait here.” Like he _could_ go anywhere. He watched as she grabbed the blanket from the foot of the bed and rushed out of the room. A minute later he heard the door to his dryer open then slam shut.

He bit his lip harder to still it and scanned the room. The windows were sealed tight with impermeable black fabric and a deadbolt had been installed on the door. There was a small inflatable bed in the corner of the room with a laptop on it, open and displaying the Starcraft pause menu. A half empty glass of water was on the floor beside it, along with a discarded Hershey’s wrapper. It was clear that the woman had been staying in there with him.

Heavy, hurried footsteps preceded the woman before she burst in the room and tossed the warmed blanket over his body.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” She was digging around under the bed. “You hungry? Thirsty? Do you need to use this?” She sat up with an empty bedside male urinal in her hand. “I can hold it for you…” she muttered, pulling the blanket up and away from his crotch.

“No,” Heero snapped loudly. “No…”

The young woman laughed nervously and set the blanket and the urinal down. She was blushing.

“Sorry, I’ve never taken care of anyone before, and … well this is weird, you being like him and all, it’s kind of freaking me out.”

Heero tugged at his arms again, but it was no use. He wasn’t going anywhere. Sighing, he resigned himself to the fact that he was a captive and decided that brute force wasn’t going to help. He’d have to bide his time until he could find another way out.

“... what’s your name?” He tried to relax against the mattress, the warm blanket finally soothing his trembling limbs.

“Chiara,” she said hesitantly, glancing over her shoulder. He followed the path of her gaze to the corner across from his bed where a camera was mounted up by the ceiling. They were being watched. No wonder she was so on edge. He had no doubt that Alpha was behind this, and that he was somewhere on the opposite end of that camera stream watching them, but why? Who was this woman to him, and what were they doing to him?

“Chiara.” Heero tested the name, noticing how she tensed and looked at him as he spoke it. She had made it very obvious that Heero being identical to Alpha was a shock. He logged this information away for later. Perhaps he could use this to his advantage. “Why are you holding me against my will? What are you doing to me…”

She frowned and inched away to stand at the foot of the bed. “I can’t talk about that, Beta.”

“Heero. My name is Heero,” he murmured, watching her emotions shift across her face. This woman appeared to be an open book, and hardly seemed villainous, unlike her compatriot. “Don’t call me that.”

“But Alpha said your name was-”

“Don’t call me that.” Heero narrowed his eyes at her, noting how the gesture made her flinch. “It’s Heero.”

She glanced at the camera again, hesitated and nodded. “Alright … Heero.”

 


	6. Deception

There was no clock in the room, and with the windows shielded Heero had no way of knowing how much time had passed. After helping him drink a protein shake and change the bandage on his bullet wound, Chiara had slunk off to lounge on the bed in the corner to play her video game.

Heero had tried to think of a way to escape, but Alpha was thorough. The binds on his wrists and ankles were thick and he was too weak from whatever that hulking white machine by the bed was doing to his blood to put up much of a fight. Chiara had tried talking to him, filling the silence with small talk about living on the colonies and if he played any games. She was nervous. Heero had no desire to communicate with her and after a while she had simply given up.

He was exhausted, but he couldn’t let himself sleep. He was afraid of waking up and being somewhere else, with someone else. As bad as this situation was, he didn’t feel threatened by this woman, and it was obvious that Alpha had gone out of his way to keep him alive. Things could be a lot worse. They weren’t going to kill him, at least not yet.

Finally he heard the knob to the door turn. Chiara sat straight up and snapped her laptop closed, fussing with her hair before she scrambled off the bed.

Alpha stepped into the room in Heero’s Preventer uniform, a brown paper bag under his arm. His expression was cool and calculating.

“Why is this door unlocked?” He crossed the room and dropped the bag onto the inflatable bed. Chiara shifted her weight from one foot to the other, flushing.

“I’m sorry, I forgot. It’s not like anyone was here, and the apartment door was locked, so...” she rambled.

“I told you to keep it locked at all times,” Alpha chastised coldly.

“Yes. Sorry,” she looked away in shame.

When Alpha turned his attention towards the bed Heero spotted the dark circles around his eyes. His clone appeared to be tired and irritable.

Good.

“How was your day, Beta? Are you enjoying your personal nurse?”

“What is that machine?” Heero asked, getting right to the point. He tilted his head at the hulking white box whirring in the corner that had been processing his blood all day.

“He hasn’t gone to the bathroom yet,” Chiara murmured, placing her hands on her hips.

Alpha frowned and walked up to the side of the bed. Ignoring Heero’s question, he yanked the covers from his body and studied him. “Being uncooperative?”

“What are you doing to me?” Heero yanked his arms forward and scowled. Alpha seemed to find that amusing. A sinister smirk began to grow at the corner of his mouth.

“What? You’re scared of needles now?” In one swift motion he grabbed Heero’s boxers and yanked them down to his knees. He bent down to pull the empty urinal from under the bed, popping the cap off with ease. “Retention risks infection. Be a good patient and empty your bladder.”

Heero frowned, curled his toes and tried to yank his legs free. The frame of the bed creaked. He had to take a piss but had been holding it all day. He’d done many things in his life without shame, but having a woman hold his dick for him while he took a leak wasn’t something he ever wanted to do. It took a lot to embarrass him. The look on Alpha’s face made it very clear that he knew it.

Alpha’s cold hand grabbed his penis and gave it a rough yank. “Come on,” he positioned the plastic container around him. “Go.”

Heero knew he should just cooperate, but he had been seething for hours and the last thing he was going to do was take orders from his captor.

“Fuck you, you carbon copy piece of shit.”

The smirk on Alpha’s lips faded. “Tough words. This _carbon copy_ got the drop on you, Beta. Who is the victor here? Now come on and stop making life so complicated. Don’t you want to know about my day? Or … will I have to stand here and hold your dick while I tell you about it?” He slid his fingers down the length of Heero’s shaft tauntingly. “Let’s get it over with. Stop being so ornery... Look at your scowling face. What does Trowa see in you, anyway?”

“Even with my face, you won’t be able to live up to who I am,” Heero snarled, wriggling against the bed.

“Is that so? Let’s hope I can live up to your _standard_ tonight when Trowa comes to visit _me_.”

Heero stopped struggling. “What?”

“Chiara, come here and hold this.” Alpha gestured to the container. The woman frowned and reluctantly approached the bed and did as she was instructed. Alpha grabbed her hand and forced it onto Heero’s dick. “He’s getting a little excited, must be because I mentioned his boyfriend. You’re going to have to hold it down like this…” he muttered, directing her to point the tip down into the container. An unnecessary step.

At the young woman’s touch Heero’s dick twitched. _Shit…_ he turned away, refusing to look at her, feeling the full brunt of his humiliation. Alpha snorted.

“Don’t worry, she’s familiar with holding onto one exactly like it,” he teased and then pressed his fingers into Heero’s abdomen, finding his bladder and pushing firmly against it with his palm. “Now let’s go, you’re going to have fluid overload and then you’ll be no use to me.”

Heero couldn’t fight it anymore and with a sigh released into the container, filling it nearly all the way.

“Good. Now, what should I make _our_ boyfriend for dinner?”

Heero scowled and watched as Chiara left the room to empty the urinal, leaving him alone with his clone. “He’s going to see right through your little act,” he replied confidently. “You’re an idiot for bringing him here.”

“Am I?” Alpha didn’t bother to pull Heero’s boxers up and kept the blanket off of him, leaving him fully exposed. “You seem so sure of yourself, but I know you, Beta. You’re scared right now. What if he never figures it out? What if you never get to see him again? How does that make you feel?”

“You’re mind games aren’t going to work on me,” Heero replied coldly. Alpha was a master manipulator, it was one of the things he had over Heero during their competitive training. The truth was he wasn’t sure how Trowa would react towards his impersonator. His lover was a forgiving and accommodating person, and it would be easy for him to forgive Alpha for any of his missteps.

He couldn’t let Alpha know he was getting to him. It would only give him power and confidence.

“He’ll never buy it. You’re wasting your time,” Heero said softly, feeling suddenly very weak and vulnerable as he lie there helpless.

“You know, I thought about that,” Alpha said as he crossed his arms over his chest. “It would be too easy. Shove him down some stairs, kill him in an alley on his way home, make it look like a mugging or random act. Killing him is the most logical thing, he’s probably the only person who _really_ knows you…”

He studied Heero’s expression as he spoke, choosing each word carefully, watching for any signs of emotion on his captor’s face. “But then I saw him today in the office. Six feet of sex on legs, moving gracefully like a panther. And that mouth? I should sample him and see whether it’s worth cutting his little heart out or not.”

It hadn’t occurred to Heero that Trowa would be in danger. Suddenly the situation got more intense and his feeling of helplessness multiplied twofold. “When I get free, you’re dead.” He was angry, livid, frustrated. Helpless, all he could do was threaten him.

“Yes. Of course. Your empty threats are adorable,” Alpha muttered sarcastically, dismissing him with the wave of a hand. “I guess I’ll get something delivered to the apartment then, since you’re not helping me come up with a menu.”

Chiara returned and hovered impatiently in the doorway. Alpha turned to face her as he spoke. “You need to get cleaned up. We’re having company over, and I want to introduce you to _my_ boyfriend.”

“But what about him?” Chiara asked, pointing at Heero.

“He should _relax_ for a while. Maybe take a nap.” Alpha walked over to the door and took hold of Chiara’s arm. “You did well today. Why don’t you come play with me for a little while, he’s not supposed to be here for another hour or so.”

“Alright.” Chiara smirked, casting a parting glance at Heero before they exited the room.

 

* * *

 

It was raining. Large, heavy droplets fell from the manmade ‘sky’ as Trowa hurried along the deserted sidewalk towards Heero’s apartment. He mentally cursed himself for not checking the weather forecast before heading out. L4 had the most technologically advanced weather simulator out of all the other colonies, and without an umbrella Trowa was completely exposed to the makeshift thunderstorm.

By the time he reached his destination he was completely soaked, his teal briefs uncomfortably riding up the crack of his ass underneath his skin-tight jeans. He slipped through the revolving doors of the apartment lobby and sloshed his way over to the elevator, pushing his limp bangs out of his face so he could see. Someone needed to write a letter to the director of L4 atmosphere control and insist that they cut the dramatics. Was a thunderstorm really necessary in space? Trowa didn’t think so.

The stainless-steel elevator doors slid open with a satisfying ‘chime’ to welcome Trowa inside. He pressed the button for the 3rd floor and adjusted his bag over his wet shoulder as he ascended.

Heero’s apartment was a corner unit at the end of the hall to the right of the elevators. Number 301. It had become a second home to Trowa. He had a key and had gotten into the habit of letting himself in without knocking. Tonight was no different. He slipped inside and closed the door gently behind him, toeing off his soggy shoes and setting his bag down in the foyer.

“Heero?” He called out, suddenly eager to get the wet clothes off his cold, itching skin. Before his boyfriend could answer he gripped the hem of his t-shirt and swiftly pulled it off, tossing it onto his shoes.

“Hey. In here,” Heero’s voice sounded from the end of the hall. Trowa followed it into the living room where he found his boyfriend sitting on his couch. He wasn’t alone.

To Heero’s left sat an unfamiliar woman. She was young, perhaps just out of high school, wearing ripped jeans and a t-shirt with a dopey-looking character on the front of it. She was naturally pretty, with large reflective brown eyes and short, wavy hair. She smiled as he entered the room.

Heero stood as soon as he saw him.

“Hi,” Trowa greeted them hesitantly, appraising her. It was weird seeing someone in Heero’s apartment, let alone a woman. His boyfriend didn’t have a lot of friends. He crossed his arms over his bare chest and frowned. “Who’s this?”

“This is Chiara, my new roommate.” Heero touched Trowa’s damp lower back with the warm palm of his hand. “You’re drenched.”

“Left my umbrella,” Trowa muttered, eyeing the girl on the couch. Roommate? Since when was Heero looking for a roommate? The guy had more money than he knew what to do with, so it couldn’t have been to cover the rent.

“Chiara, this is my boyfriend, Trowa.” Heero introduced them casually.

Trowa gave the girl a nod in greeting, feeling awkward and uncomfortable. Heero was frowning at him.

“I’ll go get you a towel,” he said before vanishing down the hall.

The girl was smiling at him. She pat the spot on the couch beside her. “Heero’s told me so much about you.”

Finally his boyfriend materialized beside him, draping a fluffy towel over his shoulders. Trowa clutched it close to his body and gave Heero a questioning look.

“She’s from the Earth-Sphere Culture Exchange Program,” Heero explained, grabbing him by the hand to lead him to the couch. Trowa reluctantly sat down beside him.  
  
Chiara leaned over Heero to shake Trowa firmly by the hand. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you.” Was she blushing? He pulled the towel tighter around himself. “Wow, Heero, you didn’t tell me he was _gorgeous._ ”

Heero frowned and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The gesture made Chiara laugh.

“The Cultural Exchange Program?” Trowa asked, surprised. Since when was Heero charitable with his personal space? “I didn’t know you were a member…”

“Well, he technically isn’t,” Chiara interjected with a frown. “He’s kind of helping me out. My _real_ sponsors bailed on me, and there aren’t any open units here until the spring.”

Trowa looked from the young woman to Heero, his eyebrows raised in surprise. So this was what Heero wanted to explain to him? Why hadn’t he just told him outright? Why drag him over to the apartment for introductions. Heero seemed to detect his confusion. He rested his hand on Trowa’s knee and sighed.

“Her uncle is the manager of the complex. He asked me to lend her my spare room as a favor,” he explained slowly. “I wanted you two to meet. I thought it would be easier to explain that way.”

Chiara was beaming, her full lips turned up into a cheerful smile. “We’re roomies! Isn’t it great? I promise I won’t be any trouble. Poor Heero was sick all weekend, I felt so bad having him carry all those heavy boxes.”

“It’s temporary,” Heero said suddenly, as if he were trying to remind the girl that she wasn’t welcome to stay forever. Trowa sighed. This was a weird revelation, but it was also kind of endearing. He would have never expected Heero to give up some of his privacy to help someone else, it was almost kind of cute. The faces he was making were of the same mild annoyance that he often expressed when Duo was around.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Trowa said politely. He wasn’t sure what else he _could_ say. The girl nodded and stood, ran a hand through her hair and gave them an apologetic look.

“Same here. I’m glad I finally got to meet you. Unfortunately I have to run, I have three term papers due this week.” She stretched her arms over her head and yawned loudly. “We should grab lunch sometime. Heero promised to tell me some cool Preventer mission stories.”

“Sure.” Trowa agreed and watched as Chiara left the living room. When he heard the squeak of a door opening and closing, he turned to his boyfriend, shuddering beneath the towel, his body sinking into the couch cushions. “I need a shower...”

He needed to process all of this. And he needed to warm up.

Heero smirked. He leaned in closer, his hand snaking up beneath the towel, fingertips softly tracing the exposed, chilled flesh of Trowa’s abdomen. The touch caused Trowa’s skin to tingle with unexpected warmth.   
  
“It looks like you’ve already had a shower,” Heero murmured, teasing him. “Want to borrow some clothes?”

“Yeah. But first I want a hot shower.” Trowa stood and made his way towards the bathroom, glancing over his shoulder to see if his partner was following him. Heero appeared hesitant at first, almost as if he were second guessing whether or not he should follow him. Were things still weird between them?

No. He watched as his boyfriend stood, turned off the lights in the living room and followed him down the dimly lit hall and to the bathroom.  
  
Trowa took a moment to drop off the rest of his wet clothes and waited while Heero fumbled around in the shower, setting the water to a lukewarm temperature, which was unusual. Trowa put his hand under the blast of water and quirked an eyebrow at Heero, who was watching him expectantly.

“It was forty degrees outside,” Trowa teased, gesturing to the hot water handle. “I’m freezing.”

Heero’s eyebrows gathered and he nodded, quickly turning the water up as if he were on a special mission. “I thought I’d be the one to warm you,” he said in his usual deadpan voice, face a mask of seriousness as he plunged his naked body beneath the hot stream.

Trowa followed and closed the glass door behind them, enclosing them in a steamy tomb. Warm water trickled down his skin, thawing his body, relaxing his stiff muscles. He pushed his hair back and out of his face and then draped his arms around Heero’s shoulders. “You took in a stray. So this was why you were avoiding me all weekend?” He asked, his voice calm.

“I really was sick,” Heero replied firmly, shoulders tense beneath Trowa’s arms. He looked down at the shrinking space between their bodies and leaned forward, closing that gap, his chest brushing lightly against his, a hot stream of water gushing across the expanse of parallel taut skin. “And maybe I was hoping she’d be gone by today. Every alternative fell through.” His hands grabbed Trowa’s narrow hips, fingers digging into the sharp angles. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“It’s not like you to keep me in the dark,” Trowa pressed their wet foreheads together and sighed. He had been upset earlier, but now he couldn’t find it in himself to stay mad. Heero’s explanations seemed genuine enough, and now that they were finally together he didn’t want to waste time arguing. He just wanted to feel his boyfriend’s body pressed against his own.

“I was worried about you. But I’m glad you’re okay… Even if it means that I can no longer walk around your apartment naked.” He wondered how long Chiara would be residing in the spare room.

“Who says you can’t?” Heero replied, smirking. He raised a hand to touch the side of Trowa’s face, interrupting the flow of water that had sprung there, tucking a long lock of wet hair behind his ear to keep it out of his eyes.

Trowa snorted under his breath, knowing that Heero was kidding. He was possessive, and had made it very clear in the past that he didn’t want anyone else seeing him naked.

“It won’t change much,” Heero reassured him, nudging Trowa’s nose with his own. “I don’t want any of this to change.”

“I know of _one_ thing I’d like to change,” Trowa confessed, watching as worry suddenly flickered across Heero’s blue eyes. “You haven’t kissed me all day. Not once.” He teased and brought a finger under his lover’s chin. “…Is it because you’re worried you’ll get me sick? Or have you gotten tired of me already?”

Heero’s eyes widened at the insinuation. His back straightened as if he were being faced with a challenge.  
  
“Who could ever get sick of you?” Heero asked calmly, grabbing Trowa’s hand from under his chin. He moved his finger out of the way as if it were an obstacle and, very firmly, cupped his face with both hands and pulled him forward to meet his own. Wet lips meeting together, easily and comfortably becoming flush.

What had started as a playful kiss escalated quickly. Was that Heero’s tongue? Trowa couldn’t tell between the rivulets of water rushing across their faces and the familiar hot softness of his boyfriend’s probing tongue, so he parted his lips as if to invite him in. He wasn’t surprised when Heero’s tongue slipped across his lips, greeting his own.

Their bodies became a tangle of limbs, sliding against one another, melting together beneath the hot, pressurized water. Trowa broke the fervent kiss with a gasp, unable to speak as Heero tried to kiss him again.

“Let’s go lie down,” Trowa whispered, his voice barely audible over the noisy rush of the water.

“Yeah,” Heero replied, though he made no move to leave the shower and instead greedily devoured his mouth again.

 

* * *

 

Janis Joplin’s “Piece of My Heart” blasted loudly from the opposite side of the room and roused Heero from his drug-induced slumber. His head was already swimming from the first dose of knockout drug that Alpha had used on him during their fight, and so this second dose had left him even more out of sorts.

Even with his eyes closed the room felt like it was spinning. He wanted to curl up into a ball, hold his head and ride the feeling out, but due to his restraints he could do nothing but lie back against the bed and groan.

“Hey.”

Heero forced one eye open and saw Chiara standing at the bedside, looking down at him with a water bottle in hand.

“You want something to drink?”

His mouth was dry. As he nodded ‘yes’ the room tilted and he was overcome with nausea. He swallowed back a lump of bile that had leapt into the back of his throat. His migraine was worse than it had been before, the throbbing pain almost audible as it matched the beat of the deafening music.

“Turn that down,” he muttered.

“What did you say?” She leaned closer and frowned.

“The music-” he grumbled weakly. Chiara’s frown deepened and she shook her head.

“No. Here.” She forced the straw between his lips. With each sip a sharp pain stabbed his temples. Was he dehydrated? He glanced up at one of the IV bags hanging over his head. It was empty, devoid of its clear contents. Chiara followed his gaze and gasped.

“Shit. Oh, shit!” She yanked the straw from his mouth and slammed the bottle down onto a nearby side table. “Oh no…”

Beneath the empty bag the indicator light on the IV pump was blinking red. It was then that Heero made out a faint, electronic beep sounding in time with the light. It had been alarming, but the sound had been drowned out by the music.

Chiara dug around in a nearby box and retrieved a bag of solution before quickly rushing to the IV pump to hang it.

“How, uh … how do you feel?” She looked worried, it was obvious that she wasn’t supposed to let the solution run out. She fumbled with the controls and yanked at the tubing in an attempt to untangle it.

If his head wasn’t threatening to fall off of his shoulders he would have laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. Alpha’s accomplice was hardly suited for the tasks he had given her. She was no nurse, that was obvious, and yet she was tasked with caring for him in Alpha’s absence.

She looked terrified and overwhelmed. He could use that to his advantage.

He looked up at her, parted his lips and feigned losing consciousness, rolling his eyes slightly up into his head. He heard her gasp, mutter frantically and then felt her hands groping around his chest.

“Oh… Beta? Hey… HEY!” She shook his shoulders roughly. “Oh fuck. FUCK!” Her clammy hands grabbed at his wrists, searching for a pulse, looking in all the wrong places. “Don’t die, fuck, please don’t die!”

He felt something heavy against his chest, stole a downward glance and saw her pressing her ear to the center of it, listening for a heartbeat.

Heero was trained to fake illness. It was a survival skill that the CLO had taught him at a very young age. Hours of meditation and controlled breathing had conditioned him to have incredible control over his own body, to slow his own heart rate, still his body, and mimic dying. He had used it many times to get out of close calls and avoid capture by the enemy. He hadn’t used it in a while but, like piloting a mobile suit, it was something that he’d never forget.

He made his breathing shallow, forced his body to slow its metabolic rate and focused on every physiological somatic function. Everything relaxed, slowed down, and faded. He rolled his eyes, his watery white sclera the only part remaining visible.

Chiara sat up, unable to hear his heartbeat. Her panic was almost palpable. “Fuck!”

A moment later the music stopped. He heard her feet rush back to the bedside, felt her hands poking around his neck and face searching for any sign of life.

It was then that he heard Trowa’s voice; soft, muffled, distant and moaning, accompanied by the distinctive, familiar thumping sound of a headboard against the wall.

Heero’s eyes snapped open and he lifted his head from his pillow. Chiara’s face was inches from his own, his sudden recovery having given her a start.

“Oh. Oh, thank God-”

“Trowa…” Heero croaked, his voice sounding strange and foreign. Suddenly the entire situation became clear to him. He was strapped to a bed in his apartment, a hostage to his clone, and in the room across the hall from his boyfriend who… the thought made him sick to his stomach. Alpha had made good on his promise. He was fucking Trowa. Heero knew his lover’s distinctive sounds of pleasure, and knew what was happening to him.

A sudden glimmer of hope shone through the darkness. This was his way out. Trowa was there. He was right fucking there, the only person who could get him out of this situation, just across the hallway.

“TRO-” He began to frantically call his name but was cut off by Chiara’s hand smashing against his mouth.  
  
“No. NO!” She pressed her palm firmly against his lips in an attempt to silence him. “Be quiet. Fuck, this isn’t supposed to happen. You’re… you’re supposed to be asleep, oh fuck…” She was reaching for a syringe loaded with cloudy yellow liquid on the side table. Heero twisted his head side to side in an attempt to break the seal over his lips, Trowa’s name was crashing over and over against her sweaty palm.

He was desperate. She was fumbling with the needle. He bit her hand.

“OW!” She snatched it away from his mouth and dropped the needle to the ground. “Shit!”

He got one weak call of Trowa’s name out before a pillow was slammed against his face. Sobbing, desperate, Chiara was smothering him.

“You can’t do this. I can’t let you do this… please…. I’m sorry,” she said between gasps, holding the pillow roughly against his face, refusing to let up. Heero was in full fight mode, his arms and legs flailing, tugging against the leather bindings, the frame of the bed creaking as he strained beneath the pillow.

_She’s going to kill me,_ he realized. If he kept struggling she would smother him, whether she meant to or not. Alpha had no intention of killing him, that was clear. He was keeping him alive for something. If Heero kept fighting her now he would die, and Trowa would never know that the man who was making love to him was a fake. Heero would never get his chance to return to his own life.

He needed another way out. He needed time to come up with a plan.

He stopped struggling. Chiara was still leaning on the pillow, panting. He felt her hands trembling through the fluff and fabric. A long, tense moment passed before she pulled the pillow away from his face. He looked up at her and saw her pale, horrified expression beneath her smudged, tear-streaked mascara.  
  
The truth of the situation struck him like a bullet to the brain. She was a prisoner here, just like him.

As they made eye contact she broke down. Her shaking hands dropped the pillow, shoulders trembling as shock began to set in.

“I’m sorry, Alpha-… Beta.” She was choking on her own spit, gagging between ragged breaths. She knelt to pick up the syringe and frantically forced the needle into one of the IV ports. He felt the medicine sting his veins as it entered him. A moment later he was spinning again, as if he were in a perpetual free fall, the same sickening feeling he felt when he and Duo had jumped from the Naval hospital 32nd floor so many years ago. It was hard to think, hard to breathe. The adrenaline had drained from his body, making it difficult to command his limbs, his head, his mouth. He couldn’t say anything, could no longer cry out for help.

He knew he had missed his chance. In the momentary silence after Chiara had dropped the pillow from his face he could have screamed for his boyfriend to alert him that he was there, but then what would have happen to him? To this girl? To Trowa? If Alpha heard him cry out for help would he have just killed Trowa right there as he lie beneath him?

The scene played out vividly in his mind. Alpha could have easily snapped Trowa’s neck to dispatch him without a second thought. No, Heero needed to find a better way of escape that guaranteed not only his own survival but that of everyone else involved.

Chiara was staring at him, waiting for him to pass out. He looked up at her, struggling to keep his eyes open. In the background he heard a low groan, heated panting, the thudding sound of the headboard banging faster.  
  
“He’s never going to stop,” Heero whispered. “You know that… right…?”

Her back stiffened and her hands clenched tightly into fists. “You don’t know him like I do.”

If Heero had the strength he would have laughed. “My life… he wants it. All of it. He’s going to keep Trowa. Trowa _is_ my _life_.”

The sound of the truth being spoken by his own voice hurt. He knew it was the truth, he had known from the way Alpha had spoken about Trowa earlier. He could have killed Trowa, he _should_ have killed him, but he hadn’t. Alpha was efficient, calculating. He would never leave an aspect to a plan open and his mission vulnerable unless he was somehow otherwise invested.

Alpha _liked_ Trowa. He made that apparent by keeping him alive, and he was playing this woman by telling her that keeping Trowa in the equation was necessary for his plan.

Heero knew the truth, and the realization was killing him, stoking his anger. He felt helpless, weak, hopeless.

The banging against the wall grew louder. Trowa’s voice was rising, whatever Alpha was doing to him was bringing him closer to climax.

“Mmmmnn… Uhnn… Heero!”

Hearing Trowa cry out his name for someone else was like taking a knife to the chest, and Heero could do nothing but lie there and listen. He looked over at Chiara again and saw that fresh tears now streamed down her cheeks.

He knew that she wasn’t crying for having almost killed him.

She was crying because she knew he was right.


	7. Jealousy

“What flavor is that?” Duo asked as he leaned over to give Quatre’s ice cream cone an experimental sniff. The blond held his chocolate-colored treat up in offering.

“She said it was Nutella,” he replied excitedly. “Want to try?”

“Nah, it’s cool. I’m more of a fruity kinda guy,” he replied, taking a long and satisfying lick of his rainbow speckled Fruity Pebble flavored cone for emphasis.

“You’re definitely fruity,” Trowa said blandly as he dragged his tongue across his own, a concoction that claimed to taste like birthday cake.

Duo rolled his eyes and elbowed him playfully in the side as their group walked together through L4 Colony’s crowded infamous outlet mall. The former Deathscythe pilot’s wedding day was a month away and he still hadn’t gone to file his and Hilde’s wedding registry. Hilde hated shopping and had sent Duo out to finish this task under threat of death. It was a good thing the braided man loved bargain hunting.

“This comin’ from the guy with rainbow sprinkles,” Duo snapped back with a grin. “What are you, twelve?”

“Who _doesn’t_ like sprinkles?” Quatre asked in Trowa’s defense.

“Heh, Heero. Mister Coffee over there,” Duo pointed at Heero and laughed. “I think you’ve got a problem, pal. You may want to cut back on the magic bean a bit.”

“I like sprinkles,” Heero replied plainly as he systematically ate his own coffee flavored treat with perfectly aligned licks. Trowa smiled. Heero always ate his food in a methodical, symmetric way. It was cute, and hearing him announce to the world that he liked sprinkles in his serious voice was almost comical.

“This one is actually rather good,” Quatre said as he held up his own cone. “Anyone else want to try it?”  
  
“Sure,” Trowa sidled up to match the blond’s pace with his own and grabbed his wrist to gently guide his hand up so he could give the Nutella ice cream an appraising lick. It wasn’t something he would normally eat.

The creamy hazelnut flavor was surprisingly pleasant. It was so good he decided another taste was in order. Still holding Quatre’s arm, he bent down to take another lick. Quatre pulled his arm back, making his tongue miss its mark. He tried again, and this time managed to steal another lick but Quatre’s hand jutted forward sharply, playfully smashing the ice cream against his mouth. Laughing, he tightened his fingers around the smaller man’s wrist and pulled so he couldn’t escape and bit off a huge mouthful of his frozen treat in retaliation.

“Trowa!” Quatre exclaimed with a chuckle.

Trowa smiled through the melted mess on his lips and released Quatre’s wrist. Duo was laughing at him. Heero was glaring down at his ice cream as if he were on a mission to destroy it. Trowa retreated from Quatre’s side to wrap his arm around Heero’s shoulders in an attempt to make him feel included in the fun. When his boyfriend looked up at him he ran his tongue across his chocolatey upper lip suggestively.

“Want a taste?” He asked Heero in a silky, seductive voice.

“Yeah.” Heero responded.

What he did next was something Trowa had not expected while out in public. Heero reached behind him with his free hand and grabbed his ass, urging him forward with a rough squeeze before claiming his ice cream-covered lips.

The kiss was urgent and possessive, as if Heero was claiming him for the first time. Trowa felt his boyfriend’s teeth graze his bottom lip, silently demanding that he open up for him. It was clear Heero wanted more than just a taste of the Nutella flavored treat. A warm tongue peeked out to clean up the mess Quatre had left, making quick work before diving into Trowa’s hot mouth.

Trowa almost dropped his half-eaten ice cream that was slowly melting down the side of the cone and onto his hand.

Heero had been unusually needy and overly affectionate lately, so Trowa wasn’t terribly surprised by the aggressive display of affection. But he was a bit confused by it. The past few days felt just like the first week they had officially become a ‘couple’, all those years ago. Heero was constantly on him. Day and night. At work and at home. They were having prolonged bouts of sex and spontaneous make out sessions. Heero always wanted to know where he was and what he was doing when he wasn’t with him. Trowa had no idea what had gotten into his boyfriend or why things had suddenly changed. Perhaps it was all the wedding talk lately? Was Heero feeling something more for him, or was it something else entirely?

When Heero finally released his lips from their pleasurable abduction Trowa was dazed and breathless. He felt Heero’s hand slip from his backside and watched as blue eyes peered over his shoulder, affixing their gaze on Quatre who was standing just behind them. The look Heero gave the blond was that of a predator marking its territory.

There were no longer any traces of Nutella flavored ice cream on Trowa’s face.

“Tastes good.” Heero murmured, pulling away so he could go back to licking his own ice cream.

“Well, shit!” Duo had stopped dead in his tracks to gawk at them. “I guess we know what Heero’s _favorite_ flavor is,” he muttered, eyes as wide as dinner plates. He turned to give Quatre a smirk. “And I’ll bet ya anythin’ that it’s not Nutella…”

Quatre shifted his weight from one patent leather shoe to the other, appearing uncomfortable. “So, what store were you trying to go to first?” A perfectly placed change of subject.

Duo dug around in the pocket of his leather jacket and retrieved a crumpled piece of paper with Hilde’s handwriting. Her instructions. He peered down at it and turned it over with a dazed expression, like Indiana Jones trying to decipher a hieroglyph. “Grate and … barrow?”

Quatre frowned and took the paper from his hand. “Crate & Barrel.”

“... is that some kind of thrift store or somethin’?” If it didn’t have double coupon days or a bargain bin, Duo didn’t shop there.

“No, it’s a really nice home store. You’ll like it,” Quatre explained as he took Duo’s arm and led him in the direction of the store in question. He cast a glance at Heero before carrying on ahead without them.

Trowa fell into step alongside Heero, who was down to the last morsel of his cone. He didn’t seem to have noticed Quatre’s parting look, or if he did it didn’t bother him. There was a strange tension in the air now, something he’d never felt before. Normally they were all at ease with one another, but something was different today.

They followed Duo and Quatre into the store, which was teeming with shoppers, and waited patiently while Duo spoke to someone at customer service about his registry. When he returned he had an armful of scanners and a shit eating grin on his face.

“Alright, if it’s black or chrome, I want it.” He shoved a scanner into Heero’s reluctant hand and then dropped one into Trowa’s. “And if I catch you scanning anything fucking wicker, I’ll kill you.”

Heero scowled down at the scanner, studied it for a moment and then let his fingers wrap around the handle. Suddenly he appeared content, as if it’s gun-like shape brought him comfort. He looked up, stared Duo square in the eye and blindly stuck his hand out to scan a decorative wicker basket.

“Fuck you, Yuy.” Duo rolled his eyes and sighed. “Looks like I gotta keep an eye on this guy.” He pointed at Trowa and Quatre. “You guys, wanna do the kitchen stuff?”  
  
Quatre held his scanner up and smiled brightly. “You’ve got it.”

“That won’t take us very long. We just need to scan a microwave since that’s all you know how to use.” Trowa said dryly before Quatre tugged on his arm and started dragging him off towards the knives aisle.

“Hardee har har,” Duo grumbled as he pushed Heero forward towards the bedroom displays. “At least I fuckin’ _eat_ , ya beanpole.”

Five minutes later Quatre had effectively scanned everything that Duo and Hilde would possibly ever need in their kitchen, assuming they were professional chefs. The truth was that their friends didn’t need a WiFi connectable sous vide cooker, but who was Trowa to stop Quatre from having his fun.

A few aisles down in the bedding section Trowa could hear the occasional muted beep, followed by a groan or Duo’s voice rising in protest.

“No, that’s floral!”

“Thirty bucks for _one_ pillow sham?!”

“Oooh, a cowskin rug! Now _that’s_ classy.”

“You know, I’ve been meaning to replace my mattress.” Quatre said as they approached the bed and bath section of the store. A lineup of overly decorated beds greeted them, their brightly colored duvets and pillows catching the blond’s eye and drawing him in closer.

Trowa gave a shrug. “You’ve mentioned tossing and turning at night. Maybe your mattress is too soft? ...Or too firm?” He didn’t know a thing about mattress shopping. The bed he slept on had already been there when he’d moved in and he thought it was comfortable enough. All of the furniture in Quatre’s condo was well made and expensive, way more luxurious than anything he’d ever been used to.

“Should I upgrade to a king-sized bed?” Quatre asked as he set his scanner down and slid onto one of the display beds, careful of where he put his shoes so as not to dirty the pristinely folded, white bedding. He pat the spot next to him. “Come lay down. Tell me what you think?”

“I’m surprised you don’t already have a king-sized bed.” Trowa laid down next to his friend, clasping his hands on top of his chest as he looked up at the ceiling. He let his body sink into the mattress.

“Well?” Quatre rolled onto his side and looked at him expectantly, like a child excitedly awaiting his parent’s approval of his grades. All A’s.

Trowa raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “It’s nice, I guess? It’s hard to tell what the mattress feels like with all this bedding layered on top.”

“Remind me not to hire you as my personal shopper,” Quatre teased him, giving his arm a playful poke. “What about your room? You know you’re free to change anything in there to your own liking, right? It’s kind of dark up there, we could get you some more lighting?”  
  
The bed was comfortable and neither of them were in any hurry to leave. Trowa shook his head and moved his hands from his chest to clasp behind his neck and studied the ceiling tiles overhead.   
  
“Honestly it’s fine. I can’t think of anything I’d want to change,” he admitted. Quatre chuckled.

“Really? There’s nothing in this entire store that caught your eye? Not one little thing?” The blond was taunting him with a smile.

“Well, there was _one_ thing,” Trowa murmured cryptically. He turned to face Quatre, who was waiting expectantly for his answer. “The monkey.”

Quatre blinked. “The what?”

“The pizza cutter we scanned for Duo. The one shaped like a monkey riding a unicycle.” It had been the goofiest, cheapest thing they had found. Of course Quatre thought Duo would like it.  
  
“ _That?_ When’s the last time we made a pizza?” Quatre asked, laughing.   
  
“You asked what I want…” Trowa replied with a straight face, pretending to sound hurt.

Quatre rolled his eyes and sighed. “Fine. Consider it yours. We can use it to cut naan instead.”

“Best twenty bucks you’ll have ever spent.” Trowa smirked, satisfied.   

“You’re ridiculous,” Quatre laughed, grabbing one of the decorative pillows and hitting Trowa playfully in the head with it. “And I question your taste sometimes.”

“I lived in a trailer for five years. What did you expect?” Trowa effortlessly snatched the pillow from his attacker and tossed it to the floor.

Quatre propped himself up with an elbow so he could look down at Trowa with a smile. “Catherine has good taste. I thought it would run in the family.”

“I have good taste in _some_ things… just not kitchenware, apparently.” Trowa defended himself and blew away the strands of hair that had fallen into his face. Before he could successfully get them in order another pillow came into view. He was too slow to stop it, the fabric meeting the tip of his nose before smooshing against his face.

Quatre was laughing. A nearby saleswoman muttered something under her breath as she walked by with her arms full of perfectly folded comforters, obviously not amused by their antics. Trowa pushed Quatre’s arm away before the blond could land another blow.

“Cut it out or they’ll throw us out,” he said with a chuckle. Quatre rolled his eyes.

“If they try to lecture us, I’ll just tell them that I’ll buy the whole store,” Quatre explained with a grin.

Trowa detected movement at the foot of the bed. Thinking it was the saleswoman there to kick them out, he sat up only to see Heero glaring down at them with his scanner clutched tightly in hand.

“Hey,” Trowa said quickly, smoothing his hair out with one hand. “You guys done?” Duo was nowhere to be seen.

“He’s in the kid’s section,” Heero said plainly, his dark blue eyes cutting at Quatre for an instant before coolly settling back onto Trowa. “I could use your help.”

The tension was back. Heero looked like he was irritated with Quatre, but why? What had the blond ever done to earn the those cutting glares, that coldness?

Trowa nodded and slid off the bed, grabbing his scanner from the nearby shelf. “Alright.” He gave his boyfriend a questioning look.

Heero grabbed his arm gently as he neared and said nothing to Quatre, didn't even offer to have him come as well. Trowa went willingly, but he was feeling his irritation beginning to mount. He didn't like all of this cold behavior from Heero towards his friend. _Their_ friend. Quatre always had an amicable relationship with his boyfriend, so what had changed?

Once they were out of earshot Trowa carefully pulled his arm from Heero’s grasp and tried to busy himself with scanning a painting of a fox he thought Hilde would like.

“What's gotten into you today?” he asked straight away, not wanting to beat around the bush. “Did Quatre do something to offend you?”

Heero was watching him, his expression intense. He looked worried. “Why do you ask that?”

“You've been giving him looks all afternoon,” Trowa pointed out plainly. “It's been making him uncomfortable. It's making _me_ uncomfortable…”

Heero paused in the middle of searching for the scan tag on a wicker ottoman and looked up at him. For a moment Trowa detected panic and apprehension in his usually cool, confident eyes. Had he not realized what he was doing? Trowa knew that Heero was struggling lately, perhaps this was just another strange side effect of whatever crisis he was suffering through?

Even though he could sympathize with Heero’s shift in behavior, he couldn't excuse it. Just because he was going through something didn't mean he could treat Quatre like shit.

“I don't like how he looks at you,” Heero finally said, breaking the silence. “It bothers me.”

Trowa resisted the urge to frown. “Nothing’s changed. We're just friends.” Since when was Heero so jealous of Quatre?

From the look on Heero’s face he didn't appear to believe it. There also seemed to be more left unsaid but Trowa didn't want to press the issue further. Not here.

They stared at one another for a long moment and for the first time since Trowa began dating Heero he started to question who he _was_ . For the first time he couldn’t _hear_ his thoughts, couldn’t anticipate his moods. He thought he knew Heero like he knew himself, but lately he was finding himself unexpectedly surprised. Maybe he didn't know the former Wing pilot as well as he thought he did?

“There you two are! Off pickin’ china patterns I see.” Duo said as he materialized from behind a chaise lounge with Quatre in tow. “I think I’ve done enough damage with this thing,” he expertly spun the scanner as if it were a gun and blew its imaginary barrel with satisfaction. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”


	8. Vengeance

_ He’s late, _ thought Heero. Even though he didn't have a way to know the exact time he could tell that Alpha was running late. Chiara was becoming impatient and listless, pacing the room irritably, checking her phone every so often with a frown.

He watched as she checked her phone for the thousandth time, scowled at it, set it aside and then picked it up a moment later to impulsively check it again.

Chiara and Alpha had been fighting earlier that morning as he was getting ready to leave. Heero assumed it was the weekend, as his clone had left in civilian clothes and had refused to tell Chiara where he was going. She had accused him of sneaking off to be with Trowa, which he didn’t deny, and when she insisted on going with him he had shot her down and quickly retreated without another word. The young woman had been moping about it ever since.

“Why are you doing this?” Heero asked, interrupting her as she checked her phone again. Much of the afternoon had passed in silence, but he was bored and curious. “Why help him?” 

He had yet to figure out what she was getting out of this arrangement. She stayed in the apartment all day with him, and when Alpha showed up he seemed too busy to deal with her. It was obvious his personal mission was consuming him, and he had his sights set on someone else. Had she realized this, too?

It had become a serious point of contention between the two. So why was this girl here? What did she have to gain from being involved in any this?

“Because I love him.” Chiara said without hesitation. “Because he is all that I have… and he takes care of me.” She stopped pacing and flopped down onto the air mattress with a sigh. “He saved me from a life on the streets. I’ll forever be in his debt.”

It was worse than Heero thought. Alpha had her wrapped around his finger. He watched as she picked at the edge of her blanket and avoided looking at him. Now that he thought about it, she rarely ever looked him in the eye, possibly still uncomfortable with the fact that he was identical to Alpha. What was it doing to her, seeing someone identical to the person she loved lying in the bed injured and incapacitated. Could her mind differentiate what was false and what was real?

She was doomed, there was no future for her here. He wasn’t sure that Alpha was capable of loving anybody. He had never thought  _ himself _ capable of that sort of depth until he met Trowa, and even then he hadn’t realized his feelings until years later. This girl had bet her emotions in a dangerous game, one she’d likely lose.

Heero knew exactly what Alpha’s plans for this girl were. It was textbook CLO training -- what they had been trained to do. Alpha had found someone with nothing else to lose and had become their entire world so that he could have a loyal lackey, someone to do his dirty work for him. He was using her. Heero had done much of the same in the past.

As kids they were encouraged to take advantage of every resource that they could, which inevitably included people. During Operation Meteor Heero had used plenty of people to his advantage. He had blatantly taken Duo’s parts and ultimately had sabotaged his colleague’s impending missions. He had let Relena chase him to ensure her protections of him later. He had kept her at arm’s length, never crossing the line to show her he cared (or didn’t care) so he could be supported by her in his times of need. 

Both he and Alpha had been taught to let people in just enough to win them over, but to never get  _ close _ to anybody. Heero had since grown out of that and eventually let himself  _ feel  _ for people, thanks to Trowa and his friends who fostered positivity and emotion in his life and had been infinitely patient with him in the process. He doubted that Alpha would ever be able to evolve that part of himself.

“He can never love you,” Heero told her softly, speaking what he knew was the truth. “He doesn’t know what love is.”

Chiara shook her head and frowned. “You don’t know him like I do. You don’t know anything.”

Before Heero could respond he heard the familiar sound of the front door opening and closing, footsteps echoing down the foyer. 

Alpha had returned.

The footsteps made their way towards the spare room. There was a firm knock on the door. Chiara jumped from the air mattress and went to unlock the deadbolt. When she pulled the door open she was met with a blank expression.

“You finally show up.” She smiled, stepping aside to let him into the stuffy room. It was clear she was excited to see him.

Alpha didn’t bother answering her. He marched over to the bed and looked down at Heero before a scowl spread on his face. “We need to get you up and moving. It’s not good for you to be laying here day in and day out.”

Heero could see the conflict and hurt in Chiara’s eyes as Alpha ignored her, and wondered if his words would sink in or not. Alpha was inspecting his wrists, cold fingers gliding across the skin that Heero had rubbed raw by his continual testing of his bindings. The leather cuffs were formidable and Heero had thought he could stretch them but so far they hadn’t given at all.

“I’m going to let you up,” Alpha said coolly, his eyes narrowing as he locked them with Heero’s, both sets swirling with steeled determination. “If you pull anything stupid, I’ll kill you.” Heero knew it wasn’t an empty threat.

Heero’s jaw set tight as he resisted the urge to talk back. Trash talking his clone hadn’t gotten him anywhere. He had been sitting on his anger for days, and the prospect of getting up and exacting his revenge had only stoked those feelings red hot. He was furious about being taken hostage in his own home, being treated like a caged animal, having his body farmed for  _ something,  _ and above all practically beside himself about the fact that Alpha had fucked  _ his _ boyfriend in  _ his _ bed. All of his frustrations were bubbling to the surface and it took every ounce of self control not to take a swipe at Alpha the moment his wrist was released.

Not that he could have. As he was freed he realized just how weak his body had become. A week’s worth of immobility had left his hips and muscles stiff, and the nonstop forced cocktails of the mystery drug had left his head woozy. He dangled his legs off of the side of the bed and tried to steady himself and keep from vomiting.

“You stink,” Alpha wrinkled his nose in disgust. “You need to rinse off.” He pulled a Glock from his back pocket and held it up, the barrel pointed towards Heero’s face. “I guess we’ll have to hose you off in the shower. Let’s go. One wrong move and I’ll shoot, and then you’ll be strapped back down to that mattress until the day you die.”

Heero didn’t have any other choice but to comply. He forced himself to stand and held his head, waiting a moment to let his blood circulate before taking a weak, tentative step forward. It was difficult to move, his entire body ached from disuse, but he managed to slowly shuffle towards the door and out into the hallway, the business end of Alpha’s gun trailing his back as he went.

“You won’t kill me,” Heero grumbled, grabbed the wall and leaned on it. “You need me.” He didn’t know what for yet, but he knew that his clone wasn’t going to just shoot him, even if he  _ could  _ throw a punch.

Alpha snorted. “I wouldn’t hesitate to paralyze you. How would you like that? You can be the weaker one for once, and you’d never get to screw your boyfriend again. Think of how disappointed he would be.” He continued to follow Heero down the hall towards the bathroom, motioning for Chiara to move ahead of them and get the shower ready. “Although I guess he doesn’t really need you anymore now that he has _me_.”

They passed the closet that housed Heero’s washer and dryer. A basket of laundry was sitting on the ground, pale green sheets overflowing from the side. Heero looked down and noticed splotches of bright red staining the delicate threads. His eyes narrowed.

“He likes it rough,” Alpha explained, having followed Heero’s downturned gaze. He didn’t seem apologetic at all, in fact he looked please with himself. 

Heero bit his lower lip and tried not to look at the stained sheets, his head spinning with possibilities, filling in all the blanks. What the hell had Alpha done to Trowa? The thought of Alpha hurting his lover was infuriating enough, but it also frightened him. Whatever they had been doing could have easily gone too far. Alpha was more than capable of killing Trowa on a whim, whether on purpose or by accident. It was a scary proposition.

Was this what Hell was like? Heero could only assume that it was.

Finally the long, painful march to the bathroom ended. Chiara had the water in the shower running and was sitting on the toilet seat, playing one of her puzzle games, indifferent to what was going on. She had spent the entire afternoon staring Heero down and she had no interest in his care now that Alpha was home. It was as if she had checked out for the day.

Hands trembling, Heero peeled his underwear and dirty shirt up over his head, being careful not to disturb the waterproof wound dressing on his shoulder or the sealed IV ports on his arms, and slowly stepped inside the shower. The hot water streamed down his body, his muscles relaxing under its massaging blast. He rested his forehead against the cool tile and stood there, eyes closed, and let it blast away the grime.

“So how was your day? What took so long?” Chiara asked from her spot on the toilet, still looking at her phone.

“Shopping.” Alpha held the gun down at his side, positioning himself so that he was leaning back against the sink while he watched his captive shower. He glanced over at Chiara. “I told you I’d be out today. Beta’s ridiculous group of friends demand a lot of attention.”

“Since when did you like shopping?” she teased, finally looking up at him. “Can I come next time? It’s not like they don’t know about me. I’m tired of being stuck here in the apartment with him. It’s boring. ”

“That annoying loudmouth with the braid drug us along to help shop for his wedding registry. It’s not like I could just invite some random stranger along.” Alpha’s finger traced the trigger of the gun as he stood there and shrugged. “Besides, I don’t think my new boyfriend  _ likes _ you.”

At the mention of an ‘annoying loudmouth’ Heero opened an eye and tilted his head to watch their blurry figures through the foggy glass of the shower door. Alpha was getting annoyed, and Chiara was finding the courage to confront him. He decided to keep quiet and as still as possible, not wanting to be caught in the middle of what he knew would inevitably be a bad situation. He busied himself with lathering his tired body with soap as he eavesdropped on them.

Chiara was staring up at Alpha with a hurt expression, as if he had just slapped her in the face. “ _ Boyfriend? _ You told me you were getting rid of him. I’m tired of sleeping in that stuffy room. When are you going to break up with him so I can stop hiding?”

“It’s too soon to get rid of him. He’s still of use to me. If you want more of my attention, stop whining.” Alpha cut her off and looked back at Heero. “Bath time is over. You’re going to wrinkle like a prune.”

“Of use to you?” The statement hung in the air, but Chiara didn’t push him any further. She looked hurt, and seemed hesitant to continue pushing the issue, trying not to whine.

Heero sighed and reluctantly turned off the water, thinking this girl was more of a pushover than he thought. He grabbed a towel from a peg beside the shower and buried his face into it. As he breathed in a tired, shaken breath he froze. While Chiara was muttering her complaints he took another deep breath, realizing that the scent that filled his nose wasn’t his own.

It was Trowa’s.

He knew that sweet, fresh scent anywhere. He kept the towel close to his face as he dried his hair, ignoring the other two people in the room. For a moment he just wanted to think of something else, something good, before he was ushered back to his makeshift prison.   
  
“I’m tired of being cooped up in that room, Alpha.  Since when were you into guys, anyway?” 

“You don’t have to sit in that room twenty-four seven. I told you to take breaks.” Alpha avoided addressing her second question and held his gun up again, pointing it at Heero. “Let’s go, Beta.”   

Though he was dry, Heero kept the towel in hand. He made no move to wrap it around his waist, there was no point in being modest. Alpha knew what his body looked like, and Chiara had been wiping his ass for a week. Still sore, but feeling more relaxed, he hobbled out of the bathroom and slowly made his way back towards the spare bedroom.

With each step he tried to come up with a plan of escape. If he ran now he could make it to the front door, but probably not before Alpha would catch up to him. He didn’t know how fast he was in this state, and he wouldn’t get far naked. He wondered if he could run and grab his extra phone from the desk drawer, but where would he hide it? And once he was returned to the bed how would he use it?   
  
“What does he have that I don’t?” The question was weak, hesitant, as if Chiara didn’t want to know the answer.

Heero knew the answer. There were  _ plenty _ of things about his lover that Alpha would like. He was svelte, muscular, and incredibly flexible. He was casually affectionate, thoughtful, elegant in his movements. His voice was smooth, gentle, and calm which made speaking to him about any topic surprisingly relaxing. Trowa was intuitive, a thoughtful lover. He was perfect.

And he wasn’t an annoying whiner.

As they walked towards the guest room Heero’s eyes darted around quickly. What if he could leave a message for Trowa somehow? A clue to let him know that something was amiss? But what?

“He’s nothing to me, just a good lay.” Alpha tried dismissing Chiara’s concerns, his voice flat, but she wasn’t buying it.

“You say that, but you’re always texting him. You’re  _ obsessed  _ with him, aren’t you? Why?” She stopped in the middle of the hall and wrapped her arms around herself, blocking their procession.

Alpha still had his gun pointed towards Heero, but it was evident he was distracted. “I told you. He’s just a good lay. I’m sure Beta can attest to that, right, Beta?” Alpha couldn’t resist tossing a jab at Heero any chance he could get.

Heero clutched the fluffy white towel tightly with both hands and said nothing in reply as he pushed roughly past Chiara and started making his way into his room.

“I need clothes,” he said hoarsely, quickening his step and changing direction to duck past the door frame to his bedroom.

“What do you need  _ him _ for in that department? The last I checked fucking you was  _ my  _ job,” Chiara said, her voice taking on a demanding, seductive tone.

This was Heero’s chance. Alpha was distracted. Safely from view, he moved as fast as his feet would carry him to the wall above his bed. A simple abstract painting on a piece of stretched canvas was hung on a nail above his headboard. It was a gift from Trowa. His boyfriend had painted it for him years ago, one of the few sentimental things Heero had ever held on to. The design was simple, thick parallel overlapping brush strokes in various hues of blue and gray. With hurried hands he twisted the canvas on the wall and flipped the painting upside down. To the casual observer it would look much the same, but for anyone who knew the painting it would look off. He hoped that Trowa would notice the change in orientation. It was a long shot, but it was all he could think do to.

Heero turned and stumbled over to his dresser, opening the top drawer just as Alpha leaned through the doorway, gun raised and pointed at him.   
  
“Don’t go looking for any of your hidden weapons,” Alpha informed him coldly. “I’ve taken care of them.” He was right. The pistol Heero had kept taped to the inside of the dresser was gone.

Chiara was standing in Alpha’s shadow, her hands grabbing at his sides and shoulders, trying to get his attention. “I just need more from you, that’s all.”

The corner of Alpha’s left eye twitched in irritation. He spun on his heels and faced the young woman, blue eyes narrowed. “Isn’t it enough that I feed you, and put a roof over your head? What more do you want from me?”

“Technically it’s  _ my _ food, and  _ my _ roof,” Heero muttered, fishing a t-shirt from his dresser. “So, you’re welcome.”

The look Alpha gave him could have frozen Hell three times over. Heero smirked, feeling accomplished. If he couldn’t throw his fists he might as well throw some words. He grabbed a pair of boxers from the top drawer and pulled his clothes on, enjoying the feeling of the cool clean cotton against his skin. Soon he found the pistol pointed at him again. Alpha was glowering at him, annoyed and on edge from Chiara’s whining and Heero’s defiance.

“Bed. Now,” Alpha hissed.

Heero scooped up the towel and rubbed it against the side of his head as if to dab his already dry hair and obediently went back into the guest room. At gunpoint, he sat on the bed and looked down at the dirty sheets but said nothing about them. Instead he folded the towel in half and set it on his pillow as if to provide himself a clean place to rest his head.

“You’re not bringing that guy back here tonight, are you?” Chiara sat heavily down onto the foot of her inflatable bed and crossed her arms over her chest, pouting.

Alpha had forced Heero back onto the mattress and was making quick work of strapping him to the frame. He had set the pistol on the side table so he could freely inspect the IVs through their clear plastic bandages. One was clearly becoming infiltrated, the skin around it becoming raised and hot to the touch. He left the bedside to retrieve another IV kit and went to work removing the old catheter and replacing it with a new one.   
  
Heero wasn’t surprised that Alpha was proficient at starting IVs and working with medical equipment. They both had spent hours of their lives connected to machines and IVs as kids, forced to take experimental drugs and hormone treatments to enhance their piloting performances. They also had been taught rudimentary medical knowledge for the sake of self-care. To this day Heero insisted on doing his own stitches and repairing his own dislocated joints.

While he watched Alpha find a new vein to stick he saw a flash of mottled, purple skin beneath the cuff of his shirtsleeve. At first he thought it was a bruise, but as his clone worked he saw that the mark was more like a liver spot, like the ones older people get. As Alpha moved and leaned across him to gather his supplies and untangle tubing he saw more of them around the base of his neck, beneath the collar of his shirt. There was even a light, forming one at his temple just beneath the hairline.

These marks hadn’t been there the day before. Heero wasn’t sure that they had been there that morning when Alpha had been arguing with Chiara right before he left for the day.

Alpha had finished replacing his IV and had connected him once again to the hulking machine in the corner. He went to power it up, the familiar whirring sound filling the room once more. Heero watched as his blood was drawn from one arm, slowly inching towards the machine where it was churned and spun around, filtered and returned to him once more.   
  
Blood. What could he possibly need his blood for? At first Heero had assumed that all of the equipment was designed to keep him alive and at bay, but why go through all of the hassel? Why hadn’t Alpha killed him, and why was his clone so focused on making sure he was taken care of?

Heero had suspected that Alpha needed him. Now he was certain that they were taking something from his blood. Seeing his clone’s strange markings, he could only assume one thing. He decided to test his theory.

“You’re sick.”   
  
Alpha looked up from the machine, his eyes narrowing. “What?”

“You’re sick. You’re ill. You need me to…” Heero was groping in the dark, making shit up as he went along, waiting for Alpha to say or do something to verify his assumptions.

There it was. Alpha had looked down at his hands, only for the briefest of moments, as if to check and see if he had revealed anything to Heero. He must not know about the ones on his neck and at his temple yet. Somehow this was all connected.   
  
“... to keep you alive.” Heero watched as his clone shifted, scowled and immediately went to the bedside table and grabbed his pistol. He pointed it at Heero’s face, his finger twitching on the trigger.

“Don’t you ever presume that I need you, Beta. It’s you who needs me now, you need my mercy otherwise you’re a dead man.”   
  
Heero knew that Alpha hated being reliant on anyone. As kids it had come up more than once. Dr. Jay had once said that Alpha needed to learn from him,  _ needed _ his influence, and Alpha had lost it, tore up the training room and beat Heero to within an inch of his life for it. His clone was scared of being lesser than him, of being  _ nothing _ but a copy. The truth was that Alpha would have never come to existence if it wasn’t for Heero’s borrowed DNA, a fact he would never live down.

“You need me,” Heero repeated, trying to work out the facts in his head. “You’re sick, and there’s something I have that you need to stay well. I’m keeping you alive.”

“Shut up,” Alpha hissed, pressing the barrel of the pistol to Heero’s forehead. “Shut the fuck up.”

Finally, Heero had the upper hand. For a week Alpha had been torturing him with his words, but now Heero had power over him.   
  
“Your skin, what’s wrong with it? You’re rotting. Finally your body can no longer take it, your  _ artificial _ cells are wasting away.” Heero knew that there was nothing fake about Alpha’s cells, but he couldn’t help himself. He’s say anything he could before he would be inevitably silenced. “In the end, you still needed me.”

Alpha’s finger was squeezing the trigger, and past the barrel of the gun Heero saw the hurt and anger in his clone’s eyes. He closed his own, blocking out the image as if to deny Alpha his own existence.

“Alpha, don’t.” Chiara’s voice sounded from the foot of the bed. “Don’t kill him, or…” She was hesitant to say any more. Heero felt the gun roughly pulled from his head and when he opened his eyes Alpha was standing over him, frowning.

“The only reason I’m dying is because your genetics were weak in the first place,” his clone said calmly, as if he were discussing the weather and not his fragile mortality. “So the one who has failed in this is you. You are lesser. You are weak, and I am having to live with the reality of your flaws.”

“If I’m so horrible, why try to take my life? Why not go and be your own person? Do you think I wouldn’t help you find a cure for your problem…?” Heero was watching him with a steady gaze, finally seeing the full facts of his situation. Alpha was dying, he needed him to live. Something on his cellular level was flawed, and he was frantically trying to stay alive.

“You wouldn’t help me. When have you  _ ever _ tried to help me?” Alpha slid his pistol into the back of his waistband and crossed his arms over his chest. “You took everything from me, Beta. You were chosen because you were weaker than me. Now you’re living a life that was supposed to be mine. So I’m taking it back - your health, your house, your lover. It’s all  _ mine _ now.”

Heero sighed, Trowa’s scent lingering in his hair, serving as a reminder for all he had lost. Alpha wasn’t entirely wrong. By all accounts it should have been his ruthless clone who was sent down to the planet for the mission, but Dr. Jay had his own idea of what the ‘perfect soldier’ was supposed to be. He couldn’t blame Alpha for being bitter and angry, but he was going about this the wrong way -- the only way he knew how, through violence and manipulation.

“I know you’re hurting, Alpha, but ask yourself this. Why must there only be one of us? Why do you feel like you have to  _ replace _ me?”

Alpha’s hardened expression softened, he appeared surprised and taken aback. Heero frowned, staring up at him, waiting for his response. Hadn’t he thought of that as an option? Was the CLO’s brainwashing so effective that he couldn’t imagine a world where they didn’t have to compete? Where they didn’t have to hurt one another?

“I could help you,” Heero added, locking eyes with his clone, holding his gaze. “Whatever it is I have in my blood, I’ll give it to you.”

For a moment Alpha’s face softened, as if he had never been given such kindness before. Heero could only assume that he hadn’t, that nobody had thought to tell him they’d help him. Heero knew what that was like. It wasn’t until he had met his fellow Gundam pilots that he knew what camaraderie was. He had learned that he didn’t have to fight alone, that amazing things could be accomplished with the help of others. That people could genuinely  _ care _ about him, no tricks or ulterior motives involved.

The room was silent. Heero waited for Alpha to make the next move.

Suddenly his clone’s eyes narrowed, his mouth turning down into a dark scowl. “I’m not falling for your tricks.” The tender, understanding moment was gone. Alpha’s walls were up again, his defenses raised.

Heero watched as Alpha double checked his restraints and then turned to Chiara, grabbed her by the wrist and tugged her towards the door.

“Come on. Tonight you sleep with  _ me.” _


	9. Suspicion

The architecture of Quatre’s condo was primarily modern, an airy two-story loft with floor-to-ceiling windows, pristine white walls, and high-tech appliances littered throughout. Everything was new, shiny, and expensive. Everything except for the ornate, baroque-style moulding that lined the high ceilings of the living room area.  _ That _ seemed out of place. In the two years that he had shared Quatre’s space Trowa had never noticed it before, but as he lay on his back he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the intricate details. The small, contradictory touch of antiquity amused him. It was  _ so _ Quatre.

He was smiling fondly when a sharp, sudden bite on the side of his neck drew his attention away from the ceiling. “Heer-“ Trowa started to gasp before his lips were forcibly covered, his body pressed further down into the plush cushions of the sectional.

Lately, it seemed that any time he was alone with Heero he ended up flat on his back.

Eager hands groped, squeezed, and cupped all over his body, moving too quickly for Trowa to keep up with. He felt Heero press his entire weight into him and knew the other was trying to immobilize him and keep him in place. It was working.

Soft protests were sucked greedily from his mouth and he closed his eyes, his heart rate speeding up and pounding against his chest as his body betrayed him, already reacting to his boyfriend’s assault despite his efforts to control himself.  

He couldn’t let this continue.

But it felt  _ so _ good. Hot lips moved across his neck and throat, worshiping the skin there. Fingers coaxed all one hundred billion nerve cells into a frenzy. When Heero rocked forward Trowa could feel something hard rub against his pelvic bone. He knew what the other man wanted.

“Heero… please,” Trowa begged, his back arching off the couch when a stray hand traveled over his growing desire and a tongue forced its way past his lips, roughly claiming his mouth. It would be  _ so  _ easy to give in, to lay back and let Heero do with him as he pleased.

But not right now. This had to wait. He’d invited Heero over to talk, not to tongue wrestle and hump on the couch. They needed to have a serious discussion.

Heero wasn’t acting like himself lately and Trowa was beginning to get worried. At first he had simply brushed off the changes as situational- his concussion, bad memories resurfacing, his own injured arm perhaps triggering potential possessive feelings. He had made excuses for him for weeks, pardoned his behavior to their friends and coworkers. It was getting old. Something had to give. He didn’t know how to help him. He needed answers.

Trowa pried his mouth from his lover’s and gasped for air, placing his palms on Heero’s chest to firmly push him away. “Heero, slow down. I want to talk with you first.”

It had only been thirty minutes since Heero had arrived and already he was on top of Trowa, ready to mount him like an animal in heat. His urgent displays of affection and insatiable desire for sex were starting to become too much for Trowa to handle. It was like fighting off a hormonal teenager with a bat.

Heero reluctantly sat up and stared at him, an eyebrow lifting in silent inquiry. “Talk about what?” He asked with a frustrated sigh. Heero wasn’t much for talking, even at the best of times, but he had always given Trowa his full attention and consideration in the past. Now he appeared irritated, distracted. 

Trowa sat up and put some distance between them. He straightened out the front of his shirt, pulling it down over his exposed abs before he spoke. “I’m worried about you. You’re not acting like yourself. Is everything okay? Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

“Not like myself?” Heero echoed his words as if he didn’t understand them. “In what way?” He ran his hand through his messy hair and raked his teeth across his lower lip. For a moment he looked like a confused schoolboy and not the hardened former weapon of mass murder he actually was.

“You’re all over me. All the time. While I find that  _ flattering _ , it’s becoming too much.” Trowa didn’t think his body could take it much longer. “And the jealousy. You get upset when I’m around Quatre. You’ve  _ never  _ had a problem with our friendship before, so what changed?”

Heero didn’t respond. Trowa sighed.

“Also this,” he reached out and grabbed Heero’s arm, rolling his sleeve up to expose the underside of his elbow. “What’s going on here?”

The taut flesh of Heero’s inner elbow and lower arm was covered in bruises and track marks from what looked like needle sticks. Trowa had noticed Heero was wearing longer sleeves lately in lieu of his usual tank tops and t-shirts, even at the gym. He had also noticed that while having sex Heero managed to hide them by preferring positions where the insides of his arms weren’t visible to Trowa. It hadn’t concerned him at first, all of the pilots underwent wellness checks and bloodwork done at Preventer periodically. It could have just been a result of a clumsy or inept phlebotomist. However, the marks were only getting worse and that, combined with Heero’s unusual behavior, had been a red flag for Trowa. 

Was his boyfriend doing drugs? That didn’t seem logical. As far as Trowa knew, Heero had never dabbled in drugs. But what else could explain the changes in his behavior? The markings on his skin?  

Heero covered his arm with his hand and frowned, looking panicked. The emotion was gone as quickly as it came.

“It’s nothing. I’ve been trying new vitamin shots,” he said coolly, tugging his sleeve down to cover the discoloration. “And I don’t think I’ve been acting any different. You don’t want me touching you anymore…?”

Trowa sighed. Heero was playing dumb and he knew it. “You know that’s not what I meant. You’re becoming more possessive lately. Is something going on? Have I done something to make you think I’ve become disloyal to you? Do you seriously think I’m fucking around with Quatre?” 

Trowa was never one to beat around the bush. He wanted answers, and normally Heero was forthcoming with his responses. Again, he was acting odd.

“I’m not jealous of him,” Heero spat sourly, as if he were trying to convince himself. “There’s nothing wrong. You’re being paranoid when there’s no need to be. I’ve just been having a slump, that’s why I tried these vitamin shots, to try and get back to baseline.”

“Then why are you being so rude to Quatre? You’ve been so cold to him lately.” This conversation felt like pulling teeth. Heero wasn’t convincing him of anything, he didn’t believe him, but he had no proof that he was lying to him.

The thought that his boyfriend  _ was _ lying to him was a painful one. Heero had never lied to him before, yet here he was sitting on the couch treating him like an idiot. It was disheartening. He wanted to be understanding and supportive, but how could he help him if Heero wouldn’t tell him what was going on?

“I think you need to get help,” urged Trowa with a frown. “Even if there’s nothing wrong, it couldn’t hurt to talk to someone. I know you think that everything’s fine, or that you can handle it all on your own, but whatever you’ve been doing isn’t working. I want you to be okay…”

“I  _ am _ okay,” Heero snapped, clearly frustrated. “There’s nothing wrong with me, I don’t need a doctor.”

“Then maybe someone else? A friend? Sally could talk to you, maybe give you some advice-”

“No. I don’t need help.” Heero stood from the couch, his eyes glazing over with an apathetic, icy expression. “Stop trying to fix what’s broken. I’m fine. If you don’t want me touching you, then I won’t. I’m sorry if I was making you uncomfortable, I just… I can’t get enough of you.” His icy mask broke for a moment, his expression soft, affectionate and sincere. “Is that such a bad thing?”

Trowa sighed. Heero had avoided the topic of Quatre yet again. Luckily his roommate had gone out of town which left them alone in the condo for the weekend. Trowa had hoped to work out some of the kinks in their relationship while they had some alone time, but Heero wasn’t helping matters at all.

“I’m tired,” Heero said plainly. “I’ll sleep on the couch tonight, if you want.”

Trowa shook his head, stood from the couch and gently grabbed Heero’s shoulder. “You don’t have to do that…” Heero looked like a kicked puppy, his confidence zapped. “Just… tone it down a little, okay? Let’s just keep it PG tonight.” He leaned down to nuzzle his lover’s nose gently with his own, feeling sorry for getting him worked up or hurting him. He had wanted to resolve some of their issues tonight, but he wasn’t looking to start a fight. 

As he led Heero by the hand up the stairs to his room he decided he would let it go for now. However, he wasn’t giving up on him. They needed to work this out. He would try talking it out again tomorrow.

 

-

 

The following morning Trowa woke to the sound of a car pulling up into the driveway. He checked the clock. It was ten in the morning, too early for them to expect company. Duo occasionally stopped by on weekend afternoons unannounced, but as far as Trowa knew the American agent was busy testing wedding cake flavors and picking out flower arrangements with Hilde today.

He sat up and grabbed his phone, checking for messages from Duo or anyone else who would have stopped by. There was nothing. He looked over to his left. Heero was curled up on his side with his back to him, face buried beneath a pillow, blocking out the rays of L4 morning sun that had escaped through the blinds.

It suddenly occurred to Trowa that he had woken for the first time in a long time fully clothed. He normally slept naked, but with Heero’s weird behavior he hadn’t wanted to temp him and instead had gone to sleep in sweats and a t-shirt. He also realized something else; that he had woken without Heero draped over him or touching him. His lover always slept with some part of his body in contact with Trowa’s -- a hand on his hip, a leg tangled with his, even a foot against his own. He had assumed that it was Heero’s way of anchoring himself to the real world, a sort of security blanket or gesture of comfort.

Heero hadn’t done it in weeks. Lately, whenever Trowa woke up from spending the night with him, he found Heero curled up in much the same position facing away from him, covering his face.

He frowned as he watched the soft rise and fall of his lover’s side. Something was definitely wrong, he had known it for a while now, and Heero’s denial the night before only verified his suspicions. Heero was struggling with something, and Trowa didn’t know how to help him. He felt like he was in over his head and helpless to help him. He had to do something. Heero wasn’t going to help himself, so Trowa was going to have to take control.

As he stood from the bed he heard the front door open. It had to be Quatre. Surprised, he made his way out of his room and quickly down the steps to the common area. He spotted Quatre standing by the couch, dropping his Gucci bags on the coffee table.   
  
“I didn’t know you’d be back today,” Trowa said in greeting. As he neared him he realized that Quatre was pale, his eyes tired and rimmed with red. He’d been crying. “What happened?”

Quatre tugged his jacket off and tossed it across the side of the couch, hugging himself and rubbing the tops of his arms as if he had just arrived from Antarctica. “He’s gone,” he murmured in reply, his pale blue eyes locking with Trowa’s. “Two hours before I arrived in Baku …  Rashid passed away.”

Trowa’s expression immediately softened. Rashid had been family to Quatre, and while they’d both known this day was coming, that Rashid’s cancer had progressed to a point of no return, it was still a huge blow hearing that he was no longer with them. Quatre had lost a father figure, a mentor, a support system and a friend.

There was nothing Trowa could say or do to bring Rashid back to life. He wasn’t the best at dealing with grief from death. The soldier in him had become jaded years ago, unphased by the loss of life. But this was someone his friend really cared about, and he had enjoyed Rashid's company as well. He reached out and pulled the blond into his arms, hugging him tightly against his chest. “I’m sorry.”

Quatre leaned into Trowa and buried his face against his shoulder, trembling. A soft sob escaped his lips. Trowa knew that Quatre probably hadn’t cried in front of anyone. It was something the compassionate blond tried not to do, to burden others with his own emotional pain. He knew that Quatre probably got the news and held it in, afraid to make Rashid’s family and friends uncomfortable, and instead had put on his bravest face for all of them.

Now in the privacy of their home he could finally release all of his repressed feelings.

“I … I should have been there,” Quatre sobbed, his tears wetting Trowa’s shirt. “I could have taken an earlier flight but I waited until after my afternoon meeting. I should have cancelled it. They  _ told _ me he wasn’t well, but… I put my work before my friend.”

“Don’t say that. You couldn’t have known,” Trowa ran his hand over Quatre’s back, fingers tracing soothing circles in an attempt to calm him down. He felt Quatre’s arms squeeze him tighter. “You did everything you could for him. He was so proud of you. There was nothing more you could have done.” He murmured as he rest his chin on top of the blond’s head.

“I’m just tired… I feel like I’m stretched thin. I can’t do it all anymore, take care of my friends and run this company. I have to sacrifice one for the other all the time, and now I lost time I’ll never get back. I’ll never get it back, Trowa.” Quatre lifted his face from Trowa’s shoulder and gasped, realization dawning on him. He had never thought of that before, but he knew it to be true. He stared at Trowa with his wide, watery eyes, his face wet with tears. “You’re all more important to me than any of this. The money, the power, the notoriety. I… I only keep all of this so I can use it to help others, but now I’m thinking I’ve failed. I’ve failed my friends, and Rashid, and myself. I love you guys. I love you, Trowa- what if it had been you?”

The sound of footsteps descending the stairs caught Trowa’s attention. They stopped abruptly. Trowa looked over Quatre’s shoulder and spotted Heero standing on the bottom step in his underwear, staring at them.

Trowa gave his boyfriend a pointed look before directing his attention back on his friend. Quatre needed him more right now. He pulled the blond away so he could look him in the eyes, hands resting on his shoulders. 

“You did nothing wrong. You failed  _ no one _ .” He said firmly, reaching up to brush the tears from Quatre’s cheeks. “Listen to me. You’re the strongest, most selfless person I know, Quatre. You put your heart and soul into everything that you do, and you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. No one can do  _ everything. _ You have family and friends that are more than willing to help you, if you just ask. Maybe it’s time to take a few responsibilities off your plate, so that you can spend more time with those you love? So that you can take better care of  _ yourself _ ?”

Quatre nodded and wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve, sniffling loudly. “Yeah. You’re right.” He straightened his back, his body filling with newfound confidence and energy. “I should make some changes so… so I won’t have these kinds of regrets in the future. Thank you, Trowa. What would I do without you here?”    
  
Trowa blinked as Quatre hopped up onto his toes, grabbed him by the back of his neck and kissed him on the cheek. The gesture was friendly enough, after all Quatre was known for his outward and open affection for others, but after all of the talk with Heero about his jealousy his stomach involuntarily did a somersault. As Quatre pulled away he looked over his shoulder again at the stairwell, expecting to see Heero’s scowling face but instead saw nothing at all. His boyfriend was gone, presumably having retreated again up the stairs.

Which didn’t sit well with Trowa at all. Heero was always there for Quatre, always available emotionally for others, even if he had a subdued way of showing it. Here Quatre was sobbing, his heart completely crushed, and Heero had just turned around and walked away.

Jealous or not, it was still a cold move. Trowa frowned and looked back down at Quatre, who was busy mopping his puffy eyes free of tears with the palms of his hands.   
  
“I better try and sleep. I got maybe three hours the entire time I’ve been gone. Here.” He grabbed his cell phone out of his pocket and pushed it into Trowa’s hand. “Hold this for me? I am going to take a few Ambien and call it a night. If Rashid’s wife Zeinab calls, could you answer it for me and let her know I’m okay? Everything else can wait.”

Trowa nodded and pocketed Quatre’s phone. “Sure.”

“Thanks, Trowa. You’re a good friend.” Quatre gave him a parting pat on the shoulder before retreating to his room.

When Trowa returned to his own room the bed was empty and he was met with the hissing sound of water. Heero was in the shower.

He slumped down heavily on the foot of the bed and rubbed his face with his hands, and could still feel the soft press of Quatre’s lips lingering upon his cheek. With a sigh he dropped his hands to his sides and flopped back onto the bed and closed his eyes with a frustrated groan. Nothing had been resolved and he wasn’t sure how to go about approaching Heero again. He supposed that he could try to keep Heero away from the others until he got over whatever he was working through.

There was no way Trowa was going to be able to keep Heero away from the rest of the team for long. Not with Duo’s wedding so close at hand.

He heard the soft bang of the shower door as it roughly slid open and the sound of rustling just inside the bathroom. Ever since Heero started acting off he was finding himself more aware of his boyfriend’s actions, movements and facial expressions. It was beginning to wear on him. He wasn’t used to living with this kind of constant stress.

Something had to give, and if Heero didn’t get over his funk soon, Trowa was going to have to do take action and get him help, whether he wanted it or not.


End file.
